


Last Seed, 17th, 4E 201

by Dentedhelm



Category: Elder Scrolls, Skyrim
Genre: Diary/Journal, Elder Scrolls - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Skyrim - Freeform, Slice of Life, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dentedhelm/pseuds/Dentedhelm
Summary: Last Seed, 17th, 4E 201-- the day of Alduin's return, and the day Martyn Arianrhod bought a sturdy journal in Grey Pine Goods one rainy night. This is a story told moment-to-moment from events that really did happen-- bugs are explained, bandits are pondered, and inventories are organized. It's Skyrim, pure and simple, told in first person from a thoughtful sword 'n boarding Dragonborn on a moment-to-moment, day-to-day, month-to-month basis.Mods include the exceptional Elysium Estate, Interesting NPCs, PerMa, Frostfall, Realistic Needs and Diseases, and many others that flesh out the roleplaying aspect of the masterpiece that is Skyrim! This is my first work, and I'd appreciate at least a cursory skim. Thanks so much to the Bethesda, the modding community, and to my readers!Like many Skyrim pieces, it begins in Helgen. I promise it blossoms outwards from there if you can make it through that familiar territory!





	1. Last Seed

 

**\---Last Seed, 17th, 4E 201---**

I picked this journal up today in Grey Pine Goods, a general store in Falkreath. And by the Nine, what a day it was!

 

It was already starting off on a bad foot when I woke up in the frigid wilderness around the Pale Pass with a huge lump on the back of my head and everything I owned missing. Even worse, I can't remember my last couple of weeks... but that may be the shock of the head trauma and the shock of the day. I still know who I am- My name is Martyn Arianrhod, and I'm here in Skyrim to learn about my heritage; there aren't a lot of Nords in Hammerfell. I'm also here to kill Thalmor, but that's a thrice-damned given.

 

Ahh, but yes; the day's events. I woke up wearing a cloth sack and would have probably frozen to death in the Pale Pass when I heard the sounds of a pitched battle. I peaked a hill and saw a fight going; small, but intense. From what I could tell, it was some Legionaries fighting those rebels I heard about, the Stormcloaks. I recall wondering what they were doing so far south- the Pass is literally adjacent to Cyrodiil- when I got my second bash in the head for the day.

 

I woke up on a carriage- more of a wagon, really- on its way into Helgen, a small but very well fortified town just to the north... a carriage I shared with no less than Ulfric Stormcloak himself!

 

What an honor, huh?

Sharing the cart was a rather fatalistic (I am told most Skyrim Nords are) Stormcloak soldier named Ralof and a horse thief from Rorikstead named... Lokir, I think. Who, incidentally, either didn't worship Talos or was trying to get in good with our captors. Probably both, the coward. Myself, I was mostly frustrated. I had JUST gotten to my ancestral home, only to be swept up into this damnable war as soon as I crossed the border. My head was most definitely throbbing from more than the pair of blows it had taken this morning.

 

Surreal, really, that I should die like this. And gods above, how embarrassing!

 

I did have a small consolation though; a legionnaire named Hadvar- apparently Ralof knew him- was reading the execution list... a list I was certainly not on. The thief was called upon and tried to take his chances running, but a particularly nasty captain who was running the show called the archers. Probably more painful than the axe, in all honesty. After that was sorted, I was called upon. Hadvar, the good lad, reported I wasn't on the list... but that same captain insisted I "go to the block." She was probably motivated more by urgency than by bloodshed; after all, here was their chance to cut the rebellion off at the head. 

 

Heheh.

 

Interestingly, General Tullius was there, as well; and judging by the battlemages and Thalmor with him, this was no coincidence. There MUST have been some intelligence involved here.

 

Just as I was gazing out at the Throat of the World, lamenting that I would never walk the 7000 steps, some impatient Stormcloak to my right quipped that "I haven't got all morning", jammed his head onto the block, and boasted about his ancestors being proud of him. I believed him- a man who could meet death with such impetuous courage is rare. 

The captain kicked the body away, and then it was my turn. You'd think they'd kill Ulfric first, but I think Tullius wanted to brag...

 

However, he never got the chance. Throughout the proceedings, this strange echoing roar had been bouncing through the valley. As my head was forced onto the block and I was trying to think of something poignant to utter, a Dragon- yes, a DRAGON- lands on the keep and lets loose a few blasts of what must only be the legendary Thu'um. It was like Helgen had been sucked into the Deadlands that instant- buildings burned, towers collapsed, and the air was full of screaming. I followed Ralof into some shelter, where Ulfric had already escaped; "Legends don't burn down villages" indeed. I managed to slip into the keep with Hadvar, but we got separated somewhere within.

Had to kill some Stormcloaks in there. Hated it.

 

After I escaped, I took out my map- carefully shielding it from the driving rain- and plotted my course. Falkreath was nearby, a hold capital, and more importantly, where my Mother was born.

 

On my way there, I bumped into some goblins on the road. Usually I'd slay the vermin- especially since the little brutes are NOT native to Skyrim- but I was really not feeling up to it, and they followed me a while, grunting like they had really scared me off. Please.

 

I was also accosted by some bandits, who had set up a toll. Which I sprinted through. Again- not in the mood.

 

Finally, as I was admiring the view of Falkreath from the southern ridge, I heard something stir behind me. I drew my sword just in time to meet a Khajiit who demanded my coin. I tried to warn the fool that I didn't have anything to give him, but when he pressed me still, I honestly just turned and continued towards Falkreath. This angered him; as he dived towards my back with a pair of daggers, I sidestepped, slashed his flank as he stumbled, turned him around, and jammed my arming sword right through his chin. Poor soul was probably on skooma or moon sugar the whole time... or maybe I'm just profiling.

After that I met some "Vigilants of Stendarr", who claimed to be some kind of daedra hunters. Hah.

 

Once I got into town, I meandered into Gray Pines Goods and did a little trading- the shopkeeper is a Stormcloak sympathizer, here... In Falkreath...- and dried myself off at the fire. Got heckled by some Thalmor soldiers taking up half the inn and watching the place like some very snobby hawks. So here I sit at the bar, nursing some cheap ale and enjoying the soft sounds of rain on the roof. I think I'm going to pick up a bounty or two, start there once I recover from these blasted head wounds.

 

...And, of course, the shock of seeing an entire town obliterated by a dragon.

 

Skyrim... it's good to be home.

 

...My mother wanted to be buried here, In Falkreath.

 

Met a smithing lass, by the name of Isobel. She's got the right philosophy, imagining the emotions, glory, and history the gear she forges will create... and one hell of an accent..!

 

I think she'd fit right in in Hammerfell. The Redguards have a sacred bond with their weapons that she seems to understand.

 

Apparently, she's from Kvatch, and part of a long line of smiths.

 

Aggh, I'd love to transcribe my every moment in Skyrim, but I think I should use this wrist for parrying blades, not scribbling every inanity.

 

**\---Last Seed, 18th, 4E 201---**

Isobel is definitely worth writing about.

 

As I mentioned, I was drinking some ale and concentrating a few potions in the cookpot by the fire (which incidentally caught the interest of the local alchemist, a Redguard named Zaria. It was good to see someone from Hammerfell blending into Skyrim so smoothly. We had a chat about those Goblins I met on the road; apparently, they've been migrating up from Hammerfell and the Thalmor are bringing them in from the Isles as some sort of attack creature. Typical, typical Altmer.)

 

Anyway, I bid her goodnight and was about to dig into a rabbit haunch when I caught sight of Isobel eyeing me from a bench across the way. Now I must say, I was wondering if there might be some chemistry there, and we had a good talk, flirting and trading stories. I have no illusions; I'm an adventurer. I've left a trail of broken hearts across Hammerfell and even a few in Cyrodiil. But Isobel... there's something about her.

 

Every rose has a thorn though, and that evening wasn't going to go all smoothly. An Altmer woman, smooth and cold as ice, was casting a shadow the whole night and I, in my tiredness, decided to have a "friendly chat". Apparently she's actually been kicked out of the Justiciars- good riddance- and "seeing the sights" in Skyrim before she goes home.

 

Apparently she's injured a lot of angry Nords in duels. Well... what did they expect?

 

As contemptible as they may be...

 

You know what? No. I draw the line here. I am not going to sympathize, empathize, moralize, or any damn thing with the Thalmor. They killed my parents and gutted my Empire. They're the reason I didn't grow up in the land of my birth. They're the reason the Civil War is tearing this land apart. They're the ones that introduced Goblins to Skyrim.

 

Does their evil know no bounds?

 

Picked up a few bounties over some morning tea, and they're nothing out of the ordinary; clearcutting bandits. I could do that asleep.

 

I also received a notice that an old member of the Blades is holed up somewhere killing Thalmor! Where do I sign up??

 

With the dragons about, we could use the Blades more than ever...

 

I've decided to start my morning off light though, on account of my head. Some out of towner lost her heirloom and I agreed to help her look. Menial, but... coin is coin, right?

 

I have GOT to buy a helmet.

 

So I was checking out behind the in for the damn locket when I get my THIRD knockout blow to the back of the head within the span of a day! This time I came to pretty quickly though, and chased the thief out the gate. Luckily, she was stopped by some guards- I couldn't believe it either- and I actually convinced them she was with me. I know talent when I see it. That was an integral part of the job back in Hammerfell.

 

Her name, I learned, was Arissa; and she was surprised by my offer, but accepted it. Time to bring the Silverwheels to Skyrim!

 

Scooped out Peak Shade's Tower, the place that was supposed to be housing a Blade.

 

All I found was a pile of rubble with a particularly haughty Khajiit hanging out in it.  Couldn't tell their gender, but they apparently aren't a Blade; they just killed their mentor, who was one, and stole his armor. Talked a lot about nine stances of two weapon fighting, based off the Divines, and how they didn't learn everything there was to know... on account of murdering the only one who could teach them. I might look into that... but I've always been a sword & boarder, so it's not high on my list.

Regardless, they're out for Thalmor blood. Good.

 

Some guy off the street asked me to deliver his old buddy's ashes to the priest of Arkay down the road. What, are you so busy you can't do walk a block to deliver the urn yourself?

 

Regardless, it was a nice way to break the ice with the priest fellow. Old, oolld high elf, must be eight or nine hundred. We had a good chat about the graveyard and his place in the Great War. Since he's actually newish to the area, he didn't know my mother... Ended up promising that I'd retrieve a journal he lost; I guess this studded armor I'm wearing makes me seem like I'm looking for hazard pay.

 

I poked my head into the alchemy shop only to have it reigned into conversation by some Argonian guy who pissed off the Blackbriars. Said if I saw a female courier with blonde hair and blue eyes staying in Ivarstead I should try to talk her out of delivering an apparently sensitive letter. Alright... pretty sure interfering with the mail is illegal, but so is murder, and Skyrim is soaked in the former.

 

Just admiring my own handwriting. Thank you, mother, for teaching me my letters.

 

**\---Last Seed, 19th, 4E 201---**

Rented a twin bed last night at the Drink, but Arissa said she'd rather rent her own room. Suits me.

 

Today has been crazy.

 

I- suppose that's WE now- woke up, ate some breakfast, and soldiered out towards Whiterun Hold to deal with the pair of bandit camps outlined in the bounties I picked up. After a brief stop in a small but comfortable hunter camp where we rested our feet and borrowed a cooking spit, we continued down the road a ways and were flagged down by a wounded hunter. Apparently his party had tracked a bear into this cave and they got more than they bargained for when Spriggans appeared and slew all but him.

 

We cleared out the cave with little trouble. It felt good to have a longbow back in my hands, and I think Arissa was impressed with my handiwork. After the denizens were dealt with, I walked through and made some comprehensive notes about the cave, including alchemical ingredients and the like.

 

As we broke out of the rugged mountain terrain and beheld the plains of Whiterun before us, we also noticed a pair of giants. Now, I once had a fever dream a while ago when I contracted a nasty case of Witbane; the only thing I remember was that someone told me combining Hanging Moss, Bear Claws, and Giant Toes would bring wealth. Guess what I got back there in the cave?

 

As I considered my options, the one of the giants wandered off, right by an area with elevated cover. Perfect!

 

Arissa and I picked it off with poison arrows, and once it was vanquished, we looted the body. I tossed a set of Iron Gauntlets to the side- I already had a pair- and kept walking, right past a Stormcloak patrol. What happened next was, frankly, unbelievable, and only underlines my suspicion of the Stormcloak's illegitimacy.

 

The squad rested by the sign post, and some soldier noticed the gauntlets I had discarded. Apparently thinking they were more protective than his simple fur gloves, he staked a claim and dared anyone to say otherwise. No other than his captain challenged his ownership of the damn things, and the soldier asked her if she wanted a fight. She said she did; punched the man right in the jaw, and while he was down, drew her battle axe and brought it down right upon his spine! I had never seen ANYTHING like that before in Hammerfell, and I went toe to toe with some pretty ruthless brigands.

 

Are there really that many rebels that their officers can throw them away like that? Was that just one particularly cruel captain? Did the soldier have it coming? No idea. It was barbaric. Arissa agrees.

 

Found a dead Khajiit lying next to a sacked wagon and an equally dead horse. I've seen lots of stuff like this before... but for some reason, I had an eerie feeling. Like I'd been here before.

 

Turns out those "Bandits" are nothing less than Necromancers! I had better get paid extra...

 

Got a lot of valuable loot already. I can hear this nutty chanting noise coming from somewhere deeper in the cave, but Arissa says she can't hear anything. I'll let the matter drop... for now. Hopefully we'll run across whatever it is when we take out the guy in charge.

 

**\---Last Seed, 20th, 4E 201---**

By the NINE, that was the closest scrape I've ever been in!

 

We came to the final chamber, where there was the usual rabble of chief mages. Well, the fellow in front managed to fire off this crazy half-baked spell right before I gutted him; it was a spell that summoned Flame Atronachs... which summoned more Flame Atronachs!! As of right now, Arissa and I are burned head to toe, but we made it out alive with the journal and some exellent loot.

 

Being burned is the worst. You hurt all over, and often it takes quite a few potions to sooth your skin. I think we'll rest before taking the next bounty.

 

Unfortunately, the only beds around for miles are back in Sunderstone Gorge. I think we'll poke our heads back in; maybe those atronachs went back to Oblivion by now. I'd also like to make notes about the place.

 

Alright, the place is empty so far, and there are a pair of beds. We'll set watches, of course, but I'm glad we lucked out.

 

Good, nothing ate us. A venison chop and flagon of water for breakfast and I'm ready to go.

 

Glad Arissa takes care of her own food.

 

NOPE, THE DAEDRA ARE STILL HERE

 

Alright, alright. This isn't such a bad thing.

 

Since they didn't find us when we were sleeping, we can assume they don't leave their chamber- or multiply for that matter- without a target.

 

You know what this means? Infinite fire salts! I'd say that this is a net gain for us... despite the second layer of burns we endured. This looted Forsworn armor is rapidly becoming charcoal.

 

Ran into a nutty Khajiit saying the Heavens fell into the Sea of Ghosts.

 

Have I met a single Khajiit that WASN'T crazy?

 

I've always appreciated how sabercats and wolves live together. I think that friendship is Kyne's doing.

 

In my down time I've been practicing magic exercises and flipping through spell books. I think I'm going to need at least some magical aptitude to really thrive in this dangerous land.

 

Okay, just stumbled across a Forsworn encampment. Big one, too.

 

Cleared it out, including some weird shit at the end with a pair of Hagravens bringing back one of those nutters from the dead. Weirder still, there was some more chanting going on that Arissa couldn't hear, and I saw this wall of language in the dragon's tongue. When I came up to it, everything got blurry and bluish and I felt... something. I don't know, it's hard to explain. Kind of like... an old memory, restoring itself. I don't know.

 

**\---Last Seed, 21st, 4E 201---**

Went back to Sunderstone for a nap, and I woke up feeling TERRIBLE. I'm pretty sure it's Bonebreak Fever, I've gotten it before. I'm going to need to get some help... so I guess we're heading back to Falkreath. I'm not sure Arissa is more annoyed or concerned.

 

Got healed, went right back out and got mauled by a bear. Typical.

Arissa says she's lucky she's got a guy like to me absorb all the bad luck. Hmph.

 

Bilegulch Mine, here we come!

 

**\---Last Seed, 22nd, 4E 201---**

That mine was easy enough to clear, and full of Orichalcum. I'll be coming back later.

 

Turned in the bounties. I overheard Kust saying that the cemetery has been lonely... so I think I'll pay it a visit. My mother's family is buried here, and so are those who first followed mighty Talos into battle while he was but a skilled general in Falkreath's service. I found some old graves in the style of the ancient Nords- perhaps those belong to them?

 

I kill to live; that irony is not wasted on Arkay. It's time I paid my respects to a graveyard.

 

**\---Last Seed, 23rd, 4E 201---**

Funny how everyone seems to instinctively stay away from the Thalmor soldiers which perpetually occupy the east end of the Drink.

 

Speaking of which, a Khajiit caravan stopped by while Arissa and I were taking Bilegulch. Apparently, they've come right from Elsweyr, and what's more, they're not out of their minds. That's refreshing. What's more, they don't seem intimidated by the soldiers.

 

Well, Elsweyr IS part of the Aldmeri Dominion, and they've been much more Pro-Thalmor ever since they made the moons reappear. I still think they made them vanish in the first place...

 

I should head to a shore sometime and boil myself some sea salt. It's expensive.

 

Just helped a Stormcloak patrol put down some Thalmor. Feels good to fight altmer with other nords, but still... the Stormcloaks are just making the problem worse.

 

Just passed the dead Khajiit. Looks like scavengers have not been kind...

 

Arissa makes fun of me for scribbling in this journal when we're travelling; she says it's a waste of time, and I should keep my eyes on the road. Hmph. I'm sure she's curious of what I'm writing in here.

 

In fact, I'm pretty sure she reads this thing at night. I don't keep it very well hidden.

 

I love how windy Whiterun is.

 

Just ran across the tail end of a skirmish. The Empire certainly profits from using battlemages.

 

Found a cave full of Vampires, too. Let's do this.

 

You know, this is actually a very cozy little cave! If you removed all the mutilated bodies, it might be a nice place to stay nights. I'll mark it down.

 

Arissa, like me, sees the advantage in documenting the places we visit.

 

**\---Last Seed, 24th, 4E 201---**

A couple hours of diligent scrubbing, and the Broken Fang Inn is open for business!

 

Jokes aside, I did clean all the blood. And dispose of the bodies. Honestly, it's quite nice now. Vampires know how to make a cave feel like home.

 

Of course, Arissa had nothing to do with the sanitation and instead left, coming back a few hours later with a mysterious wink & smile. I assume she relieved the noble we met earlier of his coin and had a good time up the road in Rorikstead, but I haven't asked. She seems tipsy though, that much is certain; I'm sure she'll enjoy sleeping in clean, warm, non gore-soaked furs tonight.

 

Last night we had a very nice evening, perusing little library the vampires had accumulated. Mostly history books and the occasional bit of culture, but it was very nice to actually sit at a table and eat a good meal.

 

Right now we're packing our things- we didn't keep our gear quite as together as we would out in the wilds- and we're taking the opportunity to do some light stretching and exercises. 

I don't want to mention it to Arissa, but there's only so much a handful of dusty healing potions can do. Some of the nastier slashes and stabs I've taken over the last few days are still tender in the deep tissue, and wearing this heavy armor all day doesn't help.

 

A giant just saved my life! I was cornered by a pair of tundra trolls near the Sleeping Tree (I've got to come back later) when the big lug came up from behind and smashed them like a pair of wine bottles! It was amazing!

 

I've got to say... I don't know much about the giants. How old they can get, what they speak, how smart they are, what the Powers That Be think of them, that sort of thing. They're common in Whiterun Hold, so maybe I'll find some information about them in the city proper?

 

Just had a hell of a fight with some Necromancers. They come like flies to those old burial sites.

 

Just cleaned out Fort Greymoor. Arissa noticed a drainage grate that was loose and we slipped in, took 'em by surprise. What's more, I think I felt something... shift, in my mind. I think those arcane exercises I've started doing again are actually working..!

 

Dusting our hands off as we strolled out of the fort, Arissa and I were irked to see the Legion roll up and finish off the last couple of sentries like it was no big deal. Almost immediately, they built a pyre for the corpses and secured the perimeter. The Legion are quite efficient, that's for sure.

 

Well, I'm glad we saved them the trouble.

 

One of the Legionaries had very striking lipstick.

 

Seeing Dragon's Reach looming over the tundra is also quite the sight.

 

Saw this nice, big looking house on the road to Whiterun. Might ask the Steward about it after we speak to the Jarl. Not only did it bear the mark of Kynareth, it also looked empty. Wonder what it takes to buy it...

 

Hah, as if. I can hardly rent an inn, much less purchase a mansion!

 

Whiterun is quite the city! I love it here. ...Well, the atmosphere is a little tense. But it's neutral ground, right in the middle of Skyrim, and it's got great shops and services. Really, I'd love to settle down here at some point. The meadery is a bonus.

 

Met Jarl Balgruuf and his administration. They seem like fair people with stories to tell. Balgruuf's children are jerks though; I hope Whiterun won't be doomed to being ruled by a weak man like Siddgeir.

 

Anyway, the court wizard is a little... disparaging, but I think our partnership on this Dragonstone business will bear fruit. To Riverwood! ...After a night on the town. 

 

Caught Balgruuf before he went to his chambers for some questions about the war and defending Whiterun from the Dragons. The man practically oozes courage, wisdom, and fairness, and it's all tempered by healthy cautious resolve. Balgruuf, I think, is one of the best leaders of men I have met. His bodyguard certainly seems to think so. That dark elf woman seems to go way back the with Jarl. 

 

From what I heard, they used to adventure across Tamriel with each other when they were young. That's as good a way to start a friendship as I've ever heard.

 

Saw a beautiful aurora from Dragon's Reach.

 

Had a good chat with Jon Battleborn. His family seems stuck up, but Jon is certainly wise beyond his years. He claims to be a warrior poet, and by Talos, I can see the resemblance. I've always admired that old nord tradition, and I must admit, it's one of the reasons I was excited to finally visit my homeland.

 

This morning, I met a honey-haired nord girl with this heavy Solstheim accent... she was very, very familiar... I doubt I could mistake her for anyone else. Apparently, some thugs stole something of hers, and they've been seen on the way to the Barrow, so she's tagging along with us.

 

**\---Last Seed, 25th, 4E 201---**

Along the way, we- right in front of two guards, mind you- rescued a Bosmer fellow from a trio of Thalmor. After we dumped their bodies in the river, I struck up a conversation with the guy; apparently he's a irreverent bard by the name of Daenlyn Oakhollow. He was pretty happy with the rescue (of course) and said that if I ever wanted to travel with him, he'd be around Halfmoon Mill.

 

I might take him up on that offer someday, if I ever restart the Silverwheels.

 

**\---Last Seed, 26th, 4E 201---**

Went to Riverwood, caught some mud crabs, cooked & cleaned them. A local (and apparently a friend of Arissa's) had a valuable stolen, and it's in Bleak Falls, so we'll look for it when we're up there. Ran into a real bloodthirsty Redguard guy named Gorr, used to be a gladiator in the Pit. Pretty brutal fellow. But again, if ever the Silverwheels needed members...

 

Riverwood is a nice place. It's a little dense, but that's life in small towns. The natural beauty of the place is unmistakable... but it's easy to have your mood darkened by the looming shadow of the Barrow.

 

Cleaned out the bandits guarding the place, and we found a guy, dark elf, wrapped up by this huge Frostbite spider. Looks like it had already taken a beating from the bandits, but it was still able to blast out some frost magic and lock Arissa in place. Vilja helped her out of the ice, though the first time she tried, it was with her frost enchanted war axe and it only made it worse! She was very embarrassed.

 

The elf tried to run after I cut him down from the web, babbling about "ancient nord power, locked away," etc etc. More importantly, he had the claw.

 

And a journal, too! Nice to see other people keep them as well. Or uh, kept.

 

Can't believe it... but we just fought some Draugr.

 

Now, skeletons I can handle. Vampires still have that semblance of life... but Draugr? They're the ancient nords themselves! They're all from the Mythic Era, so many years ago. It boggles the mind.

 

It also boggles the body: turns out, these guys can take a huge beating, and worse, most of them can Shout. I'm glad I brought friends; Arissa is has a disgusted look on her face but has said little, and Vilja is mercifully cheerful... but paranoid. She keeps hearing things that aren't there, and it's sort of frying our nerves.

 

We came across this large door, in what can only be the Hall of Stories, considering all the carvings. Arissa and I were pouring over the door's mechanism, when Vilja pointed out that not only did the claw fit right in, there was also some carvings on it that I overlooked which detailed how the door's rings should be positioned. Nice!

 

What do you know... at the final chamber, there was one of those dragon walls, and more of that chanting neither of my companions could hear.

 

Dragon language... the Draugr and their shouts...

 

Hmm.

 

**\---Last Seed, 27th, 4E 201---**

Got back to Riverwood during a distant thunderstorm, and just before we stumbled into the tavern, we got solicited by an orc looking for Dawnguard recruits. Sounds interesting... but the Dawnguard mooks I've seen on patrol all seem a few timbers short of a roof. Well, that goes for all henchmen, I think.

 

More curious, when we got into the Inn, Delphine wasn't there. Orgnar wouldn't say much more that that she was "out".

 

Imagine our surprise when we walk in on Farengar talking to his "reliable source". Delphine.

 

Just after she ghosted away, Irileth barged in with dire news. A dragon had been sighted near Whiterun, and it was up to us to take it down.

 

I'll never forget that moment. The way my breath caught and my stomach fell and my veins burned in anticipation. As we hustled out of the city, Arissa asked me if I was ready. "Born ready," I replied.

 

I had no idea how ironic that quip would prove to be.

 

As we approached the burning ruins of the watchtower, trepidation twisted my guts in a knot. It looked just like Helgen... the fire, the rubble.

 

The battle was a long one. The dragon spent most of the time circling the tower, raining fire down on us. I was fortunate enough to have years of experience, excellent gear, and a satchel full of potions, but many of the guards that joined us in the fight were just normal men. It was a slaughter.

 

Finally our arrows tore its wings enough that it landed on the road in front of me. Opening its mouth to shout fire, I wedged my shield in its maw; this surprised the beast long enough that I was able to climb onto its head, put out an eye, and finally drive my Captain's Saber into chinks in its scales until it died.

 

After it died, it started to... disintegrate. I jumped off just as it's flesh rapidly burned off, revealing the jagged skeleton underneath. Suddenly, a torrential wave of force blasted into me, and everything clicked. I understood the word walls, now; I was unwittingly learning Dovahzul, the tongue of the dragons.

 

Arissa was pretty impressed-- said she always knew something was special about me. Pledged to stick by my side, and that there was adventure to be had!

 

Vilja didn't have much to say. I'm not sure if she's sure about what she thinks about the whole... Dragonborn business.

 

The guards were suitably impressed though, especially when I demonstrated my newfound Voice.

 

God, I still can't believe it. Dragonborn? Hah, wish mom and pop could see me now. Which one of you cheated with a dragon?

 

Now, not all the dragon's flesh was gone; after recalling my conversation with Gorr, I decided I'd stick around and harvest what I could. I got a few dozen pounds of choice blood, meat, scales, and bones; and I was even able to recover the remaining eye.

 

**\---Last Seed, 28th, 4E 201---**

We walked into Whiterun as dawn broke and rain poured- and noticed what looked like some Alik'r warriors getting chewed out by the guard- they must have been asking after that woman they were looking for- and made the walk up to Dragonsreach. Just as we stood on the porch, a huge shout shook the earth and echoed through the land. It was the Graybeards, summoning me (ME!) to High Hrothgar. Unbelievable. I never asked for all this... I went from being a regular schmuck one second, to some kind of legendary hero the next. I mean, some people would love that... but I always enjoyed my place on the totem pole. Now what kind of responsibilities will I have? I'm guessing fighting dragons is part of it.

 

Had a great conversation with Proventus, and delivered that sword. Apparently, that big house that caught my eye is quite a special case!

 

According to the steward, the house was built by an old adventurer, years ago, who had a kind of sacred bond with Kynareth, and the house itself is apparently filled with Her blessing. Not long after the man's family line failed, the servant died, and he left a note by the door: allegedly the house truly belongs to Kynareth, and so the tenants are hers to choose. Apparently, she hasn't chosen anyone for quite a while, but from what Whiterun officials can see through the soaring windows, the interior of the house is surprisingly well kept, and the candles burn.

 

Balgruuf also made me Thane, for services rendered and my apparent Dragonborn-ness. On top of that, he gave me a very nice looking dwemer war axe as a badge of office. Very nice!

 

Irileth and I had a curt conversation, if you can call it that. She's very suspicious of just about everything, but I think she softened up to me over our shared hatred of bureaucrats.

 

On my way out, I stopped by Farengar's office, and he presented me with a pair of nice boots as a "token of our friendship." Well, he may not be the most sociable fellow, but it's the thought that counts.

 

I was going to leave the keep a lot sooner, but I ended up sharing a bottle of Cyrodiil Spiced with this altmer mage woman named Eldawyn. apparently she tries to be fancy about her wine drinking but ends up chugging bottles. She's the last of a four-strong group of mages, and most interestingly, she's an accomplished smith. Apparently she borrows the Skyforge to smith jewelry which she then enchants and sells for big money... mainly to Farengar. Interesting.

 

Best yet, this is the first time I've been drunk (not buzzed!) in quite a while. I suppose it's a nice way to celebrate the occasion of all my new honors... but the palace is quite boring. To the Bannered Mare!

 

**\---Last Seed, 29th, 4E 201---**

by the diVINES.

 

from what little I can remember of last night, I got tipsy after drinking with the elf in Dragonsreach, then headed over to the Bannered Mare, ordered some top shelf mead, got completely smashed, danced on a table with Vilja... then (Arissa tells me) I stumbled out of the tavern, and that was the last she saw of me for the night.

 

A little while ago I woke up naked in the Whiterun stables. There were fires burning all over the place and a bunch of dead trolls somebody moved into stupid poses. and guess who I was sharing the straw with? Sofia.

 

I couldn't believe it. Just... impossible. I have no idea what happened last night... and I don't know if Sofia does either. BUt apparently she had a good time..?

 

Okay, future historians reading the Journal of the Mighty Dragonborn, some background for you. I used to be a wee mercenary commander in Hammerfell, and when my guild took jobs near the Skyrim border, our teams would sometimes (almost always) get harassed by this plucky, hard drinking spellsword who would swoop in and snatch our bounties. Pretty soon I'd take all the Skyrim-bordering jobs myself, because my Lieutenants would keep getting hoodwinked by this woman.

 

At first she was just irritating, but pretty soon it developed into a healthy rivalry and even maybe a friendship. I think she was interested in me even back then, but then again, Sofia would flirt with anything on two legs... especially if she was drunk, which was almost always. Anyway, one of the last contracts I took in Hammerfell as a Silverwheel was... out of the ordinary. It was delivered right to me by courier and promised 500 septims if I'd meet the client in this upscale tavern outside of Sentinel. Bring suitable attire, the contract read.

 

Imagine my surprise when it turns out the client was Sofia, dressed in this silky black thing from Elsweyr, holding a rose between her teeth and two bottles of imported Black Briar Reserve in her hands. Now THAT was an evening to remember. Turns out, there were some assassins after her; she had pissed off the wrong guy after getting him into bed, knocking him out, and making off with his entire collection of Ayleid star gems. Apparently taking me to dinner was just a bonus; knowing that I was one of the toughest fighters in the region firsthand, she and I had a nice dinner while we waited for our “guests”... All too soon, our meal was interrupted by some bargain assassins crashing through the windows.

 

It was one hell of an evening... food flying, spells slinging. Sofia did some really crazy stuff with a tablecloth... I'll never forget that. We felt totally classy too, and afterwards we escaped the now-burning establishment and snuck off into the rocky hills to lie on the sand, forget about our ruined dress clothing, stare at the stars, tend to each other's wounds, and enjoy the shared buzz of adrenaline and alcohol. We woke up in each other's arms, but I'm sure nothing more happened... hah, she may be a horny devil, but Sofia’s a good lass when it counts. We parted ways the next morning with a wink and a smile, and when I left for Skyrim, I wondered when I'd see her next...

 

So imagine the surprise when we both woke up naked and frostbitten, covered in ash and troll blood, right in the Whiterun stables! It was quite the reunion.

 

I blinked awake, and through the hangover, saw a familiar face... and I kept staring, not believing what my eyes were showing me. I didn't want to blink, in case her face was just an illusion my wasted mind had put onto a stranger. But when my dry eyes could hardly bare it any longer, her eyes cracked open... and, yawning her familiar yawn, locked with mine. Gods, I don't think she believed it either. But she reached out and scratched my beard, and I think that's when she knew. She bolted up, quick as you like, and pulled me into a hug... then noticed her own indecency and blushed scarlet. Neither of us really knew what to say... when Arissa dropped out of the rafters with a smirk a mile long across her face.

 

She told us to gather our things, because Vilja was getting worried, and maybe you should put on some pants, Martyn, before your "weapon" catches frostbite. And with that, she strolled merrily out of the stable.

 

Sofia and I looked at each other; last night, did we..? How much was Arissa there for..? Oh gods, the embarrassment! Sofia is usually immune to such things, and even she was looking nervous. We tossed around for our clothes, staggered to our feet, and blearily walked into the new day. 

 

Working together at last.

 

**\---Last Seed, 30th, 4E 201---**

Introducing Sofia to Vilja was... interesting. Vilja was very polite, as usual... and Sofia is already a little suspicious of Vilja for being so sweet and kind. Sofia does have a rather... pragmatic view of the world, so things like manners or genuineness don't really register. All told it went rather well, though; Sofia and Arissa both live the wandering life and turns out that they already knew each other! How very interesting. Since Sofia wasn't wearing much more than a scabbard, Arissa lent her some old armor of hers, which apparently fits nicely.

 

I do hope Vilja isn't feeling left out of this weird little reunion, especially since she was out on the town when the whole... situation occurred.

 

Ran into the body of a guard, lying in the road just outside the game. Probably the work of a Stormcloak assassin...

 

Headed on over to Elysium Estate, that abandoned home down the road. Figured if I was Dragonborn and the house would only open up to someone with Kynareth's favor, I should at least give it a shot, right? Well guess what? It did!

 

The house is gorgeous, and expansive. I'm too tired right now to describe it detail, but I doubt that'll be necessary if I do end up living here for a while. I think it seems likely.

 

Sofia and I caught up about where we've been these past few months, and Arissa left to have some time to herself if Whiterun. 

 

A little while later, Vilja and I cooked some soup and venison chops and talked about ourselves. Apparently, a precious flute of hers had been stolen, and part of why she's in Skyrim is because she's tracking it down.

 

Vilja is singing this wordless tune, and it's echoing through the house like honey.

 

It's fantastic to finally be able to sit down and read a book by the fire. Thank you, Kynareth.

 

I found an interesting pair of tomes in the study about Daedra and Dragons. They should be a good way to learn about what we're up against.

 

Vilja and I agree; we've been so busy, there's hardly any time to read all the books we've collected... not even our own journals!

 

I did, however, sit down and read quite a few books, mostly on Daedra and Imperial history, both topics I suspect may be important in these uncertain times.

 

After all this studying, everything's finally paid off! I can cast magic now, I can feel it!!

 

No more relying on potions... ah, that should be nice.

 

Alright, it's admittedly not much. I can cast Sparks for maybe a second and a half before my reserves of magicka bottom out. But with some clever potions and enchantments...

 

With this potion of fortify/regenerate magicka I just crafted, I can FEEL THE POWEERRR. I'm going to look into making more of these... just in case.

 

Unfortunately I used my last Briar Heart, so I'll have to look into replacements. The other ingredients are common enough though.

 

**\---Last Seed, 31st, 4E 201---**

Note to self: no spells inside the FLAMMABLE, WOODEN HOUSE.

 

During the dead of the night, while I was outside practicing magic behind the house, I was surprised when the Avenging Wraith I had summoned began to attack something. A dragon was flying above! That big lizard was NOT about to destroy my new home!

 

As I scrambled into the house to collect my gear, I bumped into Arissa and Sofia. Arissa had just gotten back from picking pockets in Whiterun when she saw the dragon and came running. Vilja was apparently already out there, trying to keep it from attacking the city. Hastily donning my armor, the three of us bolted out of the house and saw Vilja directing some farmers who were caught in the open towards our house. Quickly reassuring them, she shouldered her bow and trotted out after us.

 

We began the fight as one usually does with Dragons; pelting it with arrows. Sofia was as excellent a markswoman as I remembered with those Ice Spikes of hers; she pulled off some truly unlikely hits against the beast. It swooped down for a pass and blasted at me with fire; I stepped out of the way, but was burned rather badly. I reached for my potions... only to find that I had left that satchel in the cellar! I had to play it safe this time!

 

The dragon was difficult to hit against the night sky... probably why it chose to attack when it did. Whenever it passed under the silvery clouds, however, I got a good outline of its body and was able to make some critical shots with my splintery old longbow.

 

Whenever the dragon was grounded, it tended to smash the earth with its tail, knocking around my bow and preventing me from getting many good shots in. Fortunately, some potions of fire resistance I had been brewing made it out with my gear.

 

Soon, we were joined by the Guard and some very capable Khajiit warriors who were guarding the caravan stationed outside the city. I've got to get to Elsweyr one these days... maybe after the war is over.

 

In the fray, nobody was sure who killed the dragon, but I absorbed the Soul anyway.

 

Went through Riverwood to deliver the claw. Passed through Helgen... my companions could hardly believe it.

 

Can't believe I forgot to buy a cloak... thank Kyne I'm a Nord. Arissa is looking very smug wrapped in that sleek brown thing of hers. Bah, Imperials.

 

I was fortunate enough to stumble across a few Stormcloaks, who actually gave me a rugged fur cloak their dead shield-brother wouldn't be needing any more.

 

I think a civil war is a war where both sides are full of good people...

 

This frigid pass is full of the dead. Mostly Stormcloak. We passed by a troop of Imperials, walking through that blizzard. Terrible sight, the narrow walls of the canyon choked with corpses like fat in an artery. Skyrim is sick.

 

Just as the party was succumbing to the cold, the storm parted and the mild forests of the Rift opened up before us.

 

Arissa noticed an abandoned shack just off the road. Apparently it used to belong to some Alchemist... but whoever had owned the place was long gone. The place was full of alchemical ingredients and even a signed copy of Sinderion's Alchemist's Compendium: Skyrim Edition. Vilja was thrilled! I think she'll enjoy reading it... though it's a little choppy and vague at times. All the more reason to keep our eyes open for more knowledge. 

 

Just as I was turning to leave the shack, I bumped into this ragged looking nord. We struck up a conversation... if that ranting could be called such a thing. Apparently he's been eating the "Corn" and "Dwarven Onions" growing in the back (Deathbell & Nightshade), thinks "Jarl General Tullius" is the Queen of Solitude, and firmly believes that Ulfric Stormcloak is actually Tiber Septim. How, you may ask? Apparently he's a shapeshifting vampire. Go figure.

 

...Besides, Mer on the moon? Yeah right.


	2. Heartfire

**\---Heartfire, 1st, 4E 201---**

Mammoth Cheese is lightweight and filling. No wonder the giants are so protective of their beasts.

 

As I stopped along the road to listen to the distant sounds of smithing, a bear barreled out of the woods and nearly knocked me down. We wasted no time slaying it. 

 

Arissa scouted ahead, and apparently there was an Imperial camp nearby. The three nords in our party lugged the bear over there, where we butchered it and harvested some other materials.

 

Imperial Battlemages dress just like regular soldiers. It's a pretty smart tactic, since it makes them much harder to root out and eliminate.

 

The mer in charge of the camp, Prefect Fasendil, is a hard elf with a hard attitude; as tough a person as I'd ever met. Not only does he come off as honorable and proud of his service in the legion, he's got a serious chip on his shoulder for the Thalmor. He also, I might add, believes that the Stormcloaks are preventing the Empire from recovering and fighting back against the Thalmor, something I can completely agree with. The guy's a High Elf himself, but not from Summerset; actually, he’s from Hammerfell and fought a similar Thalmor raid as the one that killed my parents. It's good to see that not every altmer is part of an evil conspiracy.

 

Alright, we've reached Ivarstead. I've decided that I want to visit High Hrothgar alone, at least to spare my companions the possibility of being locked out of the monastery in the bitter mountain cold.

 

As for that, the day is still young. I could go right now... but I think that I'd prefer to explore the town and do some trading before I really decide.

 

Did some shopping and headed into the Inn... met a Dunmer woman being *snicker* HOUNDED by this miserable mutt which didn't even have a name. I suggested a good nord name like "Doggvir", but she didn't like it. As with many Dark Elves I've met, she's icy, but I think under all that she's got a much softer soul. Their kind has a hard time feeling welcome in Skyrim, especially with Red Mountain’s eruption...

 

Apparently, the barrow on the edge of town is "haunted." If you ask me, it's probably some bandits... but seeing as I don't really want to climb the Steps today, I might clear the place out. After that, I'll inform the Innkeeper and maybe even get a discount for the night. Everyone wins.

 

Seems to me the barrow isn't haunted by much more than yet another batty Khajiit. He wants to know if there are REALLY 7,000 steps.

 

But now, it's time to explore the tomb proper.

 

Found an interesting book and ate my supper reading it. There's also this weird sounding wind...

 

The ancient nords sure loved their traps and puzzles.

 

HA! What do you know!

 

In the barrow, we ran across this "ghost", who tried to scare us away. Apparently he thought he looked a lot tougher than he did, because when he tried to take a swing at me, I sidestepped and slashed at his flank... which bled. Last time I heard ghosts don't bleed, so I followed up with a thrust. By the time the body hit the floor, it was corporeal... clutching a half-empty bottle that read "Philter of the Phantom." Not only that, but the corpse resembles the description of that Wyndelius guy that "vanished" a few months back. Ha!

 

More interesting, however, is the fact that there's another one of those big complex doors. We don't have a claw with us, either.

 

Time to head back to the Inn.

 

The guards in the Rift are so rude.

 

Came out of the tavern just in time to fend off a Vampire attack... they're really getting bold. Maybe I should check in with the Dawnguard after I come down from the Throat. We are in the Rift, after all, just a few miles from their fort.

Worse, I’m pretty sure I caught Sanguine Vampiris... good thing I had a potion of cure disease. Ugghh...

 

**\---Heartfire, 2nd, 4E 201---**

The wolves up here sure are dangerous if you're alone... good thing I'm not! There's a Frost Giant up here that seems to be acting like a guide. Like one should with all giants, I'm keeping my distance... but so far the big guy has just been clearing the way with his axe. Thank you!

 

Couldn't believe it. Found a filthy little goblin all the way up here, on this most sacred mountain.

 

It's starting to get cold.

 

After a harrowing duel with a Frost Troll, I almost froze getting to the top of the mountain. I quickly tossed the supplies into the bin and rushed inside in a much less dignified manner than I had intended.

 

Inside though... I won't disgrace what went on in there with my clumsy words. Suffice it to say that the Greybeards are very wise and very skilled in the Way of the Voice.

 

Apparently it's time to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller... wherever that may be.

 

It's strange, passing by my own footprints on the way down. The wind hasn't disturbed them much.

 

Oh, and there aren’t actually 7,000 steps- it’s really more like 748... but I told the Khajiit there were the full count. That made him happy. I guess that’s good?

 

**\---Heartfire, 3rd, 4E 201---**

I was just accosted by some Cultists in Ivarstead... said I was some kind of imposter and that there's a REAL Dragonborn out there named Miraak or Mirrak or something. I'll have to keep my eye on that... it could get nasty if someone out there is claiming to be me. Or what I am. You get it.

 

Also, I stepped outside with my party... to another brutal vampire attack. I don't like this.

 

First, though, we'll stop by Riften. Might as well, since we're nearby. After that, it's to the Estate and to sort out the loot. Finally, we'll be heading to Morthal. The Horn is around there somewhere. 

 

I was just about to leave when a dragon attacked. Seriously, how do these little towns survive?

 

The Rift sure is beautiful. Sofia has been humming the whole afternoon, and Arissa is having a good time recalling some of her exploits in the area. Vilja and I are quiet though; we're both worried about what's going on in Solstheim.

 

Passed some Dwemer Ruins. Home is calling.

 

Riften... certainly lives up to it's reputation. I strolled into the tavern right at that special time when the rich rub elbows with the poor, and Gods above... the richer, the stupider.

 

Picked up a few contracts. Everything's legal... for now. You never know in Riften! One of those contracts was a promise to a very loud and cantankerous old man to check out an abandoned mine with a reputation of being "haunted". After Ivarstead, I wouldn't be surprised if it was just another bunch of wily bandits.

 

From what I can tell, the social ladder in Riften goes:

\- Maven

\- Blackbriars / Jarl (in theory)

\- Thieves Guild / Other Wealthy

\- Shopkeepers

\- Out-of-Towners

\- Beggars

 

**\---Heartfire, 4th, 4E 201---**

Boli, Mjol, and most of the working folk seem like good people. It’s a pity they have to live under Maven’s yoke.

 

Just as we were leaving the Jail after dealing with Sibbi- apparently the horse he sold doesn't actually belong to him- we walked by a cell with this blue looking (both in color and and spirit) Khajiit wallowing in it. As soon as we made eye contact, he jumped to his feet and began telling me how he was sorry, and if I was here to kill him, he'd accept his death gladly, etc. etc.

 

Turns out, Inigo was the one who left me for dead in the Pale Pass, all that time ago. He said that we became friends working a contract on the border, when his addiction of Skooma caught up with him and he decided to murder me for my share of the reward. As you can see, it think it worked out well for both of us. Inigo is travelling with us now, and I must say, he's quite the character. Very smart; a writer and a teller of the most excellent stories. It seems to me that Inigo is living a charmed life, and, funnily enough, I'm glad he tried to kill me. It's what really set up my whole new life in Skyrim, you know?

 

Maybe I did die back there. The old Martyn passed away, and the Dragonborn woke up in the cold Skyrim mountains.

 

Inigo tells some great stories. I've been having a lovely evening at home, sitting by the fireplace, eating all the different dishes made of bear Vilja and I cooked up, swapping stories and rhyme games and enjoying some time off our feet. I'd love to do this more often... but without the spice of the road, what's home but a well-dressed trap?

 

Arissa is totally passed out in her bunk right now. She's been volunteering to take first watch for pretty much the whole time we've been adventuring together- probably to prowl through the party's personal stuff- and it's really caught up with her. I like to think she volunteers out of habit and genuine protectiveness now, though.

 

Inigo told his life's story to me, so I thought it was only fair to share mine.

 

I told him of how my parents were also a very cool couple of people who died protecting something; but it my case, they were a battle maiden and a cartographer, not assassins... They died keeping the Thalmor out of Hammerfell in the Great War. Inigo expressed his condolences, and was curious about where my parents were from. Skyrim, I said; I told him about how they left to fight the Thalmor in Cyrodiil before taking the fight to the more hopeful war in Hammerfell. Afterward, they lived quite well on the money they had made adventuring, and my mother worked as a local healer and my father as the captain of the guard of a little oasis town on the edge of the Alik'r, mostly made up of foreigners who didn't adapt to the Redguards' culture. I told him of how I grew up adventuring across Hammerfell just as he had done in Cyrodiil, except where Inigo travelled with his brother righting wrongs, I built a mercenary company and delved dwemer ruins. He said that it must have been quite a time. Couldn't agree more. I even told him about how Sofia and I had met and sparred over the years. He thought that was quite funny, and both of us knew that Sofia herself was eavesdropping around the corner. I told him pretty much the truth... but when it comes to her, the truth makes for quite the story. I think tonight I might get my bedsheets frozen, or a bruise... or better yet, a blush. With her, it's hard to tell.

 

After that, Inigo was curious about what I was doing before we met. I told him I didn't quite remember- he apologized- and said that since we met in Cyrodiil, I had probably been taking my time getting to Skyrim. Sentinel is, in the grand scheme of things, not terribly far from Falkreath, but I think I wanted to explore Tamriel a little more before taking the plunge into icy Skyrim. I think even then I had a strong feeling that I would end my days in that province, one way or another. Then I met Inigo, and the rest is history.

 

He thinks it's quite a story, though nowhere near as interesting as his. I've got to agree. 

 

Vilja says that she thinks her mother would like me, as we're both so interested in mixing potions. I've got to say, I've always fancied myself a bit of an alchemist, and I'd love the opportunity to meet Vilja's family. Maybe one day... it seems my path is destined for Solstheim, what with this Cult business.

 

I'm so glad Inigo and Vilja have become such fast friends. Arissa and Sofia tend to stick to themselves, though Arissa does become much more sociable after a bottle of mead or four.

 

As soon as we walked out of the house, we were accosted by no less than THREE dragons. The poor Western Watchtower has seen something like four individual dragon attacks by now.

 

I noticed a few animal corpses around the area, either from the fight or from recent kills. I elected to stay home and butcher them... everyone else spent the day in Whiterun.

 

Vilja is becoming quite insistent that we visit the Sanctuary before leaving for Morthal, and I can't blame her. I'll check in with Danica to see if she needs anything from the sacred grove before we leave, though.

 

**\---Heartfire, 7th, 4E 201---**

When we finally got to Whiterun, it was a little early for the shops to be open; I knew the Temple would be available, but I figured I'd let the overworked clergy rest for a while longer.

 

Met a... somewhat nihilistic scryer in the Bannered Mare. Interesting fellow; not only that, a fellow that may travel with us. Marking him down as a potential Silverwheel.

 

Nazeem keeps picking fights with my rugged companions, and they keep sending him away with his tail between his legs.

 

Will he ever learn?

 

**\---Heartfire, 7th, 4E 201---**

Cleaned out Orphan Rock, got Nettlebane. It's always fun to fight mages once you've used a resistance potion.

 

Alright, we're off to the Sanctuary! Some pilgrim guy is along for the ride. Snooty fellow. I thought pilgrims were supposed to be humble.

 

Getting tired of writing this, but as we exited the Vilemyr Inn... a dragon attacked... again.

 

This time, it was Vilja who jumped onto its head and dealt the killing blows. She must have seen my face, because she gently chastised me for my incredulity.

 

**\---Heartfire, 8th, 4E 201---**

Found a some dead Stormcloaks and a pretty large buck in a Troll's lair. We might as well stay the night and butcher the two.

 

Just watched a captured Stormcloak mage escape the imperial patrol leading him. I must say, mages are always dangerous, no matter what they're wearing or wielding.

 

Foxes are very curious creatures.

 

Ahh... Eastmarch is full of all sorts of alchemical reagents.

 

Just met a very enthusiastic young woman named Amalee. Silverwheel material for sure.

 

**\---Heartfire, 9th, 4E 201---**

Kynesgrove is just up the way. I think we'll stay the night there, and decide in the morning whether to continue north to Windhelm or turn back west to Whiterun.

 

Windhelm is a proud old city... but the blatant nativism and cult-like devotion to Ulfric chills me more than the frigid weather.

 

I think I might actually stop by the Palace of Kings to say hello to the man himself. Maybe he remembers me from Helegen?

 

That'll probably be the last time we meet with words, not Shouts.

 

**\---Heartfire, 10th, 4E 201---**

Ulfric's palace is full of rabidly loyal soldiers who are foaming at the mouth for empire blood and bootlicking nobles complaining about Windhelm's non-nord population.

 

Ulfric himself seems to see through at least SOME of this... from what I can tell, the Jarl truly thinks that he's doing the right thing, and that makes him all the more dangerous.

 

I wonder if he even knows about the near-religious fervor that his supporters lend him... or the exasperated distain that most of Tamriel has for his childish tantrum of a rebellion. Ulfric Stormcloak says he fights so what he fought for will not be in vain, but what he fought for isn't, I think, what needs to be championed right now.

 

The Stormcloak Rebellion is as it sounds. At the crux of this cult of personality lies one man, and without him, the entire movement will collapse.

 

Ulfric isn’t fighting for the Skyrim of old. He's fighting for his own fame-blinded perversion of what he thinks it should be, blinder still to the truths of the now, and that's what makes him so dangerous. The Empire is Talos’ greatest work. Fighting it in His name? Unbelievable.

 

In the long run, the rebellion has as much promise and direction as the Forsworn Ulfric hates so much.

 

Wow, even his court wizard is evil.

 

I might visit Solitude later to compare.

 

Looking at the map, it seems that the road will take us through Dawnstar before continuing southwest to Morthal. We could probably take the short route through the wilderness... but I'd rather see what's along the road. We're in no hurry.

 

Better pack cold-weather gear and warm meals, though. Glad I can start fires with magic now.

 

Speaking of which, we should check in on those reports of "the sky falling" over the Sea of Ghosts.

 

**\---Heartfire, 12th, 4E 201---**

After we finish up our business in Morthal, I'm thinking we should hit Solitude, Rorikstead, and finally Markarth. Can't say I've wandered Skyrim without visiting each hold capital, now can I?

 

Just met a VERY shrewd dunmer junk dealer, set up at Whitewatch Tower. I hope everything works out for him.

 

...Just helped out a freaky little jester man getting his wagon fixed. I really didn't do much for him- just convince a farmer to help him out- but he did a little dance and gave me 400 septims for the trouble. No complaints here. 

 

Apparently the huge box on the cart contained his mother's coffin. Like, with her in it. Weird.

 

Overheard a Stormcloak griping about their food stores being almost dry. Another suggested that if she had breath to complain, it must not be that bad. Someone else suggested she go to the commander for a beating.

 

...Really?

 

Fort Dunstad is an excellent place to warm up before plunging deeper into the Pale. Too bad it's usually full of rebels or bandits.

 

Just saw another couple of Stormcloaks literally kill each other over the bandit loot. Absolutely disgraceful.

 

The bandits in this fort seem to have formed some sort of symbiotic relationship with skeevers! Fascinating.

 

This place is FULL of cheese. Thank you very much.

 

The rumors were true. The Hall of the Vigilant really was burnt down. "Bummer."

 

That big tower that looms over Dawnstar is an excellent landmark.

 

Took down a goblin riding in on a boar- long way from home, friend- when I began to really freeze. Used my last little bit of magicka to light a tree on fire. Not quite as cold anymore!

 

I love magic. Why don't more people like it?

 

Vilja and Inigo continue to banter. I don't usually join in, but it sure is nice to have talkative people around to lift your spirits.

 

**\---Heartfire, 13th, 4E 201---**

Brina and Horik remind a bit of my parents. Old but spry, proud of their service to the legion, calling a foreign land home, and trusting each other deeply without being overt.

 

I think my folks would have liked to meet them...

 

The Stonehills Mine is another great waystation in the Pale's brutal cold.

 

Just met a real tough looking merc in the Moorside Inn. All covered in bones and trophies. I don't know why... but went right up to him and hired him on the spot. Ostensibly, it's because our party needs more frontliners.

 

But I don't know... like with Vilja, there's just something familiar about the old nord. Apparently, his name is Hoth. Says he's from a small village up north and pretty much every scrap of gear on him is a momento from one contract or another, from giants to daedra worshippers to giant bears and god-sent stags. Usually I'd find that hard to believe... but there are enough scars and years on that old coot that I don't doubt it.

 

It may be early to make a judgement, but... hmm, yes, it is early. I'll hold off the evaluation for later.

 

He's also the first party member officially in my legal employ, under a contract. Interesting.

 

The inn was home to another sellsword, an argonian woman named Anum-La the Swamp Knight. She had quite a story to tell...

 

At the end of Ustengrav, there was no Horn... just a "note from a friend", saying we had to meet in Riverwood.

 

Sofia is pissed off we crawled the dungeon for nothing. Vilja also is a little disappointed. Inigo and Arissa are just curious, and Hoth is quiet, as usual. 

 

I guess we'll stop in Morthal for a while before continuing on to Whiterun Hold.

 

**\---Heartfire, 16th, 4E 201---**

This vampire lord we just killed has quite an extensive boot collection.

 

Well, I guess everyone needs a hobby.

 

The original plan to continue on to Solitude will have to wait. We're carrying a TON of gear.

 

Gonna catch a carriage out to Whiterun.

 

**\---Heartfire, 17th, 4E 201---**

We showed up to Riverwood in the driving rain.

 

It seems our mystery thief was none other than Delphine! She's running a secret operation under the inn. 

 

She has some sort of plan to stop the dragons, or at least figure out where and why they're showing up. That's so much more than we had a few hours ago!

 

We're headed to a burial mound near Kynesgrove. If Delphine's pattern holds, we'll catch a dragon being raised right there.

 

Saw none other than that big black dragon from Helgen there. Gave me the usual villain spiel and raised another dragon from the mound. We put it down without too much fuss.

 

Delphine thinks that the Thalmor are behind the dragons. They certainly benefit from their destabilizing ruckus. Myself... I don’t know. I doubt the Thalmor could do this kind of thing. Dragons answer to no elf.

 

**\---Heartfire, 18th, 4E 201---**

Delivered the Horn to the Greybeards and they have named me inheritor of the Stormcrown and Ysmir, Dragon of the North. How does anyone live up to such an honor... and will anyone even believe me?

 

Sounds like we're headed to Solitude. Apparently I'm getting invited to some Thalmor party, and I'm going to have to sneak (SNEAK) off to get some files.

 

Now might be a good time to study up on Bound Weapon conjuration.

 

Met that weird Khajiit monk once again. Interesting.

 

**\---Heartfire, 20th, 4E 201--** -

Just met an interesting dog. After we rid Nirn of another Thalmor patrol, the dog trotted out of the underbrush and led us to his dead master. He seemed keen on coming with us, and Vilja seemed keen on bringing him along. I don’t think an attack dog would last long in our party though. While I’m at the party, Vilja is going to bring him home.

 

The party at the Thalmor embassy really was something. No doubt about it; everyone who's anyone in Skyrim (and not neutral, or aligned with the Stormcloaks) was there. I struck up conversations with the likes of Vici and Blackbriar; the latter saw right through me and advised me not to bother her lest she blow my cover. Sheesh. I also brushed shoulders with Jarls, some of whom I had had dealings with before.

 

I didn't run into Balgruuf, although I would have liked to. Good on him for staying away from this... whatever it is. Proventus was there though, and we had a good chat about all the guests.

 

Met Ondolemar, the chief justiciar in Skyrim. He and that "frigid bitch" Elenwen are both at the very top of my shitlist. Hopefully I'll get to slash their throats before the night is over.

 

Saw Siddgeir, too. Brown-nosing son of a bitch had the ignorant pride to say that the Thalmor were the future of Tamriel, and that Talos worship was a mistake, etc. etc. HIM, Jarl of Falkreath! It was in Falkreath’s service Talos became great!

 

My luck came through when I bumped into Jarl Ravencrone. She and I had a two-layered conversation about two-layered conversations and I let slip that I needed a distraction. She quickly agreed to help a friend (yes!) and started to have a very loud "vision" about that drunken fool Razelan. I snuck out through the kitchen during the commotion.

 

Well hooo-lllly shit. Ulfric Stormcloak is listed under Thalmor top secret paperwork as an "asset" that has cooperated with them before. Not only that, they say his rebellion directly helps them further enslave the Empire. I'd love to shove this signed-in-triplicate report in a Stormcloak's face and ask them to explain it.

 

**\---Heartfire, 22nd, 4E 201---**

Hmm. Lots of stuff just went down. Apparently there’s a very well hidden Blade archivist hiding out in the Ratway.

 

Off to Riften.

 

It's getting time to join the Legion... but I need to be able to travel in Stormcloak towns.

 

We're off to Markarth. My father was from around there.

 

We rested awhile outside of Skyhaven Temple after clearing out the Forsworn inhabiting the place. Too bad they're driven to this lifestyle... and too bad we're killing them. Ulfric is to blame somewhere in there, naturally. Wish we could team up on his sorry ass, but I think the Forsworn are, well... forsworn.

 

**\---Heartfire, 26th, 4E 201---**

Blood seal? Why couldn't it have asked for urine or something. Much easier to produce.

 

Well, I am pretty much always bleeding, so it wasn't that bad. I guess.

 

Sofia is acting very dismissive of all this incredible Akaviri stuff, but I think she's just trying to mask her fascination. Think of what it'd do to her reputation if she admitted to be interested in history.

 

Hmm... Delphine says that if I can bring her some loyal fighters, we might be able to rebuild the Blades, now that we have a headquarters.

 

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Goodbye Silverwheels, hello Blades!

 

Apparently I need to learn some kind of shout from the Graybeards that kills dragons. Sounds good to me.

 

This Blades armor is much better than what I've been wearing. Inigo picked up a set as well. Says it matches his fur. Arissa picked up a pair of Akaviri katanas to replace the old steel ones she was using.

 

Offered Vilja one, but she said she was quite fond of her old ancient nordic war axe. It's enchanted and pretty well honed, so they compare quite well.

 

**\---Heartfire, 27th, 4E 201---**

Everyone really passed out when we got home. Hoth was the last one to bed and the first one awake... that, or he didn't sleep.

 

Arissa is bathing in the springs out back, enjoying some wine. Sofia is... I don't actually know where she is. She ducked off somewhere with a gourd and hasn't come back for a while. Said something about "stress relief".

 

Vilja is reading by the fireplace in her nightgown, and Inigo is stretched out on his bed with a stack of paper. I think he's writing something. I'm very curious... but I won't pry. He'll share when he's ready.

 

**\---Heartfire, 28th, 4E 201---**

Apparently, Hoth knows Master Borri. Interesting.

 

According to the Greybeards, the ancient nords used the Dragonrend shout to weaken Alduin enough to force him into a rift in time they created with an Elder Scroll. To learn the Shout, I need to get the Elder Scroll and go back in time to learn the it from its creators. That's pretty amazing.

 

I wonder how- or if- we can stop Alduin for good. Like the Graybeards said, the end of one world is the birth of another... but you know what, the Thalmor would be happy if this world ended and they could go back to being lesser aedra. Not on my watch, you pointy bastards.

 

**\---Heartfire, 30th, 4E 201---**

The northern wilderness is crawling with daedra and monsters after dark. I watched a Dawnguard patrol be eviscerated by some ghosts they were trying to purge, and the stragglers got ripped up by this strange frost daedra that barrelled out of the woods not too long after. Nobody spoke as we surveyed the aftermath, but I think we're all glad to be together out here.

 

Inigo drops little eulogies for the lives we snuff out here. It's nice. Not many people honor their kills.

 

Just ran into a Giant wearing Stormcloak gear, following a Stormcloak patrol. Huh. Again: How smart are they? Their social structure? What are the Stormcloaks promising them?

 

I wonder what the stone walls that lead to Dawnstar looked like before they fell apart.

 

Alright, we've delivered the lute and Wilbur has asked us to pick up his spare from a friend of his in Solitude.

 

Alright, got her flute and beat up that asshole Halvdan in the process. Felt good to see that paper sabercat whimper... and it felt twice as good to see Vilja reunited with her heirloom. Off to Solitude. 

 

Heh. Funny story, that. He challenged me to a fight, so I threw down my sword and shield, took off my gauntlets, and raised my fists. Told him I was ready to go… and that fucker goes straight for the orcish greatsword strapped to his back. “Oh! That kind of fight!”

 

Needless to say, I got chewed out by Keerava for all the blood soaking into the floorboards… and I had to heal Halvdan while he sat there and pouted. He’ll be waiting out his assault charges for a while in Riften jail. Ironic that justice finally finds its mark here in the city of thieves.

 

Inigo is happy to help get Vilja's stuff back, but Sofia is getting bored. Arissa isn't saying much, but I can tell our larger responsibilities are on her mind.

 

Hoth, as usual, doesn't much care what we do as long as he's getting paid.


	3. Frostfall

**\---Frostfall, 2nd, 4E 201---**

I wonder how Sofia finds the time to do her makeup.

 

Just sprinted past a whole troop of Vigilants and impaled the Mistwalker they were after. Can those guys even tie their shoes by themselves?

 

Arissa and I were off collecting firewood together while the others made camp, and we got attacked by a bristleback that was bedded in the rushes. She had her back turned to the thing when it took us by surprise, and I pushed her away from its charge and got knocked on my ass by 300 pounds of pig. (I was, after all, the one in heavy armor. Better me than her.)

 

So I was on my back, wrestling with its tusks and trying to keep them away from my face, when Arissa yells at me, "Lift!". So with all my might I raise the thing's head and an arrow screams by my face and pops its jugular, spraying blood all over my face and panicking the beast. Then she drop kicks it to its side right as it was rearing up to gore me, and I was able to draw the dagger strapped to my heel (Nettlebane, incidentally) and finish it off with a few well placed stabs. 

 

So there we were, leaning up against a dead boar and a tree respectively, and we lock eyes and begin to laugh. I dunno, maybe it was the adrenaline, but we sat there and laughed together for a while. I think that's when we both realized how great it is that we're travelling together, that the stars all lined up like they did. If there was any doubt before... I know we're friends now.

 

**\---Frostfall, 4th, 4E 201---**

What are lockpicks made of? Ice?

 

Came out of that temple just in time to slay a Thalmor patrol. Perfect. Got attacked by a Vigilant though. Are those losers trying to protect the Thalmor?

 

Let it be known that Hoth can dent moonstone helmets with a headbutt.

 

It seems Hoth & Arissa both know Elisif. Arissa through her noble background and Hoth... well, I'll let you fill in the blanks on that one.

 

Seems like someone reported our killing of the Thalmor. We got intercepted by some guards on the way into the city, and they charged us with... assault. Not murder. Heheh, these guys are alright. Just trying to keep the peace & do their jobs. Forty septims is a small price to pay for some dead Justiciars.

 

Seems like Roggvir was an asshole. Can't say I'm surprised.

 

Just got told by Solitude's chief executioner to keep my head about me. Yeah... I think I will, thanks.

Weird running into him in the tavern. Figured he'd skulk in the dungeon all the time.

 

Ahh, the Winking Skeever! Where everyone knows your name. Or, at least, if you're Hoth or Vilja. Apparently Hoth & Lisette "go way back", and they make eyes at each other all night long, though cooly. Minette is always ecstatic to see Vilja, and those two usually dance and have fun whenever we're in town. I think Corpulus can't decide to have a headache or a warm smile whenever she's in town.

 

As for the others... Arissa always seems much more regal in Solitude. Habit, I think. Inigo really loves to tell stories when we're here. Sofia of course hates how stuck up people are in this city (especially those Radiant Raiment girls, a dislike shared by Vilja), but is unusually restrained.

 

Personally, I just wish the rooms and food were cheaper. I do love the architecture and lighting though, and with the bard's college so close by the entertainment is always good. And the menu can afford to be exotic, which is lovely. And to round it all out, this is the best place in the province to get Spiced Wine, a favorite of mine for relaxing at home with a book. Arissa and Vilja are also partial to it- though to be honest, Arissa prefers mead. I have no idea what Hoth thinks of it, though his palate is surprisingly refined and I see him drinking it when we're here. Inigo, of course, doesn't drink, and Sofia turns her nose up at it for being "fancy" and "Imperial."

 

Arissa is apparently friends with the Blue Palace's head chef. Why am I not surprised?

 

Elisif seems to be inexperienced… and worse, a bleeding heart. I can see why it’s Tullius leading the defense of the province. That's just a first impression though. We'll see.

 

Got the lute! Inigo and I had a good time rummaging through the College's library. Apparently, Inigo has some songs of his own he wouldn't mind singing when we have a moment.

 

I think after we meet up with Wilbur, we're going to head to Winterhold and find the Elder Scroll. It's about time.

 

 

**\---Frostfall, 6th, 4E 201---**

Stopped into the Winking Skeever for some food before we head out.

 

Inigo wants to take a seat and enjoy the inn before we leave though, and the others agree. I guess I do push them rather hard...

 

Alright. Tonight, we make merry! Because tomorrow... well, who knows?

 

I see Hoth quickly found a table of grizzled old mercenaries and is having a good time. He in Belrand are drinking and arguing whether magic is better than a blade. Lisette is hanging around them too, interjecting between songs.

 

Inigo and I had a good time swapping stories late into the night. I think we decided that when the bards are telling the tale of the mighty Dragonborn and his companions, they'll call him Inigo the Brave. He thinks it's a great title, and I'm inclined to agree.

 

No idea what to call the others though! Maybe that'll all figure itself out in time.

 

Arissa isn't in the tavern. Fifty-fifty she's meeting up with old friends or looting the wealthy homes around here.

 

As usual, I was the last one awake the next morning. When I came downstairs I found Hoth & Sofia nursing hangovers (Or at least, Sofia was. Can Hoth even get hungover? Did he sleep last night? Who knows?), Inigo shuffling some cards at a table, and Vilja helping Corpulus make breakfast. Arissa was still nowhere to be seen.

 

After a nice meal of baked potatoes and crab legs (thank you, Vilja!) we collected our gear and headed out into the bright Solitude afternoon. Afternoon. Oh dear.

 

Hoth snapped at Vilja and Inigo for chattering on our way out of the city. I guess a taciturn fellow like him doesn't see why people talk for fun. Ironically, the three of them actually ended up having a nice long conversation on the way to Winterhold. As usual, I was point, Arissa was sweep, and Sofia was minding her own business.

 

We decided to take a shortcut close to a bandit fortress; I'm glad they decided to leave us alone. Not that I would shy away from a fight, but the sooner we get to Winterhold the better.

 

Kyne sent a spirit Bristleback to test me on the way. Nice to see she's got her eye out for us.

 

Hoth seems to be a master at slaying god-sent beasts, and I think he was impressed to see one sent for me.

 

I wonder how my status as the Dovahkiin, Inheritor of the Stormcrown, and Ysmir, Dragon of the North (etc. etc.) is affecting my friendship with my companions. I'd like to think that it's not that important to them-- I'd much rather be Martyn first and Dragonborn second.

 

We came across a large group of Thalmor fighting some Stormcloaks at a shrine to Talos along the road to Winterhold. It felt incredible to surprise the damn elves with a huge gout of dragonfire and lay into their flank... my nord blood was boiling hot and through the haze of battle I could see Sofia skewering a justiciar here or Hoth denting a shield there. By the end of the fight, the Stormcloaks were all dead. I swear upon this shrine in front of me I'm not sure if I attacked them, or if I hurt them indirectly with my Thu'um. I'd like to think I didn't... but still, that's one less rebel patrol the legion will have to put down. I just hope I don't meet their grieving families on my travels... if I do, I'll tell them that they died on the steps of a shrine to Talos Stormcrown, fighting elves along the with the Dragonborn. That's a ticket right to Sovngarde for sure.

 

Arissa hates this frigid weather and hates how remote we are right now. How very imperial!

 

We've been leaving a trail of charred trees along our path where we had to stop and unfreeze ourselves. Even when the sky is clear, the chill in Winterhold is enough to lock your muscles in place and fill your mind with fog.

 

One of the bandits we ran into on the road had a Elven Longbow, probably looted from the very pile of dead Thalmor we left behind. Ha! My Valenwood Warbow is just as deadly, and weighs half as much.

 

I often forget that I know how to clear the skies with a Shout. I don't know... it doesn't feel right to boss around Skyrim like that. If it snows it snows. Who am I to change that?

 

Is that howling from the wind or the wolves?

 

It's great to hear all the different accents in even one legion patrol. Truly, diversity is one of the Empire's greatest strengths.

 

Just as Vilja was mentioning how hungry she was, the Nightgate Inn came into view. It's got some pretty interesting inhabitants... one crude Colovian who wears the armor of the ancient nords while pissing on our ancestors, and one carefree dark elf woman with a rusty sword but sharp wit. Not only does she have one hell of an accent (which House, I wonder?) but she's friends with Gorr as well! We're going to hunt a gigantic horker up by the White Shore for him. If it's as big as the stories say, he'll be eating well for months!

 

Her name is Callen. If our little adventure works out, I might invite her to join the Blades with the other candidates I'm taking note of.

 

You know, I've been looking back at my accomplishments lately and I've got to say, I've accrued a pretty sizable horde of Grade-A bard-tale-level Glory. Good thing we've got a bard and a storyteller in the party to spread stories of the mighty Dovahkiin's exploits! Haha.

 

Just ran into a pair of dead men... an Imperial soldier and a Stormcloak spy. From the look of things they killed each other at the same time. Quite the visual metaphor.

 

I wonder if I could use Restoration magic to see if the Imperial was poisoned. Probably. If we're going to Winterhold, it might be a good idea to brush up on our magic while we're there. I wonder how the college will react to seeing Sofia back on campus..!

 

As it turns out the Brinehammer is all the way back near Dawnstar. I told Callen that we'll meet her there within the week... our business in Winterhold is just too important to put on hold.

 

A snow-covered Dwemer ruin looms to the southeast.

 

It's strange how the world loses its luster when you're out of magicka.

 

Looks like we ran into the Forsaken Cave Morris was talking about. But didn't he say it was in Eastmarch? Are there more than one Forsaken Caves?

 

Vilja says that Giants are afraid of water. That's a little bit more of Giant lore I've collected.

 

Vilja and I agree that how the Stormcloaks treat other races is contemptible. And we're both nords!

 

Just found a frost giant. They seem a lot more... animalistic... than other giants. I thought it (he? she?) was a big frost troll at first.

 

Just ran into none other than Ria of the Companions fighting some Perfect Blood Hybrids all the way out here. It was good to see a friendly face from Whiterun.

 

Dawnbreaker glows brighter when we're near undead. I think Merida is pleased with our purging of these vampires.

 

Looks like we interrupted a nasty looking ritual. Ice shards and blood everywhere.

 

The view from here is truly magnificent. Inigo and Vilja seem keen on setting up camp around here.

 

The vampires may be dead, but this area seems cursed... I don't know. It's getting cold, even for me.

 

Yeah, I think we'll set up camp.

 

**\---Frostfall, 7th, 4E 201---**

Woke up feeling terrible. Weird terrible. I'll get it checked out in Winterhold-- you can see the college from here! We can't be far now.

 

We're also freezing our asses off, but that's Winterhold for you.

 

What the hell is this? We just found something that looks like... a cross between a Falmer and a Charus. I mean, I know that Falmer wear a lot of Chaurus chitin, but this looks like a slender, walking Charus... but kind of emaciated. It's hard to explain.

 

I chopped off an antenna for good measure. Maybe it has alchemical properties, or a professor at the College can identify it for me.

 

I just bought another one of those Dragon Claws, here in Winterhold. It's made of coral this time. Interesting! I'm even happier to report that I know which tomb it fits into.

 

Ahh, it's nice and warm in the College proper! I wonder what kind of enchantments they're using to keep it toasty in here.

 

My time in Winterhold has been very satisfying so far. I've gotten past the gate guard and an ornery librarian just by waving the Dovahkiin card! It's good to finally be recognized.

 

Sofia is a little flustered in here... I think she's torn between hoping no one will recognize her and picking fights with her old classmates.

 

Hoth is characteristically dispassionate, but I think being around so many mages is freaking him out.

 

I love hearing the voices of all the young students here at the College. It's incredible to see such a bastion of intellect and learning in Skyrim. Maybe I'll stick around for a while, or at least come back later- I think this College and I could learn from one another. I wonder how common Crusaders like myself are here? Restoration magic has traditionally been the domain of the clergy here in Skyrim, and it's one of the few kinds of magic people don't hate quite so much. I'd guess people are more focused on other schools of magic, and of course hard arcane study.

 

I think Hoth and I are scaring the kids in our big hulking armor and shaggy nord facial hair.

 

Hoth is getting impatient in here. I think Master gro-Shub impressed him though- according to Hoth, "Most orcs are dumb as a bag of rocks", but apparently he's the exception.

 

A student looked at me and said "Huh, I guess they let anyone in these days." I took it politely, but then Sofia let it drop that I was the Dragonborn and his eyes popped a little out of their sockets. Heheh.

 

I dunno, I've been taking advantage of my position lately. Is that bad? I'm not sure the Greybeards would approve. I do think that the Way of the Voice feels right... but that same philosophy gives me, personally, an excuse to do anything I like. Eh.

 

I wonder if Faralda even knows Nirya has such a grudge against her?

 

Looks like we're headed north into the ice fields to find a scholar who disappeared. Guy is apparently the foremost expert on Elder Scrolls, but from what I read in that book of his... he already wasn't quite sane when he left. 

 

Now he's been up there for half a decade. Will we find a man… or a monster?

 

Vilja says she's already freezing here in Winterhold… the icefields are going to be absolutely frigid. I agree: we're going to need to prepare.

 

Worse yet... as the sun set I could feel... something. A hunger.

 

I think I've got Sanguine Vampiris.

 

I'm not going to tell the party quite yet... hopefully I'll be able to cure it in town with a potion. I've got some Potions of Blood handy just in case…

 

Gods above. I don't want to be a vampire. I wonder if the process is reversible?

 

I've got Rockjoint, too. Ugh, my poor health...

 

Ahh, cured at last. I can finally move freely!

 

It seems like if it were ever the time for us to go into the ice fields, now would be it. I think we all agree.

 

We do, however, need to resupply... I think we'll catch a carriage out of here to get home in Whiterun, then plan from there. Truly, the most deadly thing in Skyrim is the environment, and it only gets worse the further north you get. I can hardly imagine what the Sea of Ghosts might be like.

 

I think it's high time we went shopping anyway!

 

Arissa is eager to get out of that Elven armor she's been wearing, partly to stop all the glares.

 

**\---Frostfall, 12th, 4E 201---**

Gods, Nazeem really doesn't know when to quit. Sofia totally destroyed him with a gnarly comeback about his wife (sorry!), and when he tried to recover some of his pride by left-handedly accusing Inigo of thievery, Inigo asked him if he liked his teeth, and wanted them to stay in his head. That got him to back off pretty quick.

 

Met a Khajiit monk named Qa'Dojo, who has pretty much the EXACT same philosophy as I do. That's surprising, to say the least.

 

He also expressed interest in travelling with us... I think he might be a candidate for the Blades.

 

**\---Frostfall, 13th, 4E 201---**

I said I disliked clearing the sky with my Voice- but honestly, if we're going any further north it'll greatly help our survival.

 

Seems like our best bet is to skirt the rocky island the College sits upon and continue from there.

 

Just killed some horkers, and I'm wondering whether we should butcher one... it might not be such a good idea, up here.

 

WHOA! Dawnbreaker REALLY destroys undead. We were fighting some skeletons when this enormous blast of energy came out of the hilt and vaporized a few. Nice.

 

WHOO! Decided that it was best to limit my time out here, so I cast Drop Zone for the first time. Thing was, releasing the spell took a lot out of me and I tripped off the edge of the cliff instead of aiming for the Zone. Lucky I made it. My companions were mostly amused or concerned with that boneheaded move.

 

Signus' mind is far gone. But he told us a few very, very important things.

 

First, that the Scroll is in a Dwemer ruin. Perfect.

Second, that the tools he gave us can transcribe, through Dwemer machinery, the scroll's knowledge.

Third, that the box he found contains the Heart.

 

Yes. THE Heart.

 

Well.

 

The glacial ice is gouged and dirtied where Signus has been pacing.

 

You know, people seem to really hate eating Charus. I mean, it's weird, sure... but food is food!

 

We're going to check the College archives for the location of the ruin. I might know the lay of Hammerfell's underground cities by heart, but Skyrim is new territory.

 

**\---Frostfall, 14th, 4E 201---**

It's 3:00 in the morning and gro-Shub is still at the desk. Why am I not surprised?

 

Fortunately for us there's a wealth of knowledge here. My companions have mostly left to stay the night at the inn, but Arissa and I are staying here to search the shelves for relevant information. Dwemer ruins are always a dangerous prize for scholars, and so books pertaining to the Dwarves and their underground keeps are common here. It shouldn't take long to find "Blackreach", or whatever it's called. Black something.

 

From the looks of things, we can take a rather winding road (that passes by a dragon roost!) or bushwhack our way through the wilderness. I think that's the better of the two ideas, really- any problems we have with snowdrifts can be solved with magic and experience.

 

Just saw a Stormcloak Courier trot by on a horse. Weird to think that Winterhold is a Stormcloak city, despite how much they hate magic. And how much the mages destain politics, for that matter.

 

HOLY CRAP! As we approached the ruin, we saw this dragon-like dwarven statue sitting on top of the entrance shaft... but then it took off!

 

When we killed the damn thing, I actually ended up absorbing a Soul. How the hell did the Dwemer manage to lock dragon souls into these machines?

 

The expedition that came before us has been slaughtered. I have little doubt Falmer are behind this one.

 

Voices. From the sounds of it, the Khajiit brothers mentioned in the expedition logs.

 

Gods, we've got to be more careful! If you break the Soul Gem housed in those Spiders they release a massive jolt of lightning. At least, I think that's what causes it.

 

Found the Khajiit. Looks like the remaining one went mad down here. 

 

Can't blame him.

 

It's funny seeing actual spider webs down here. If a dwarven spider could weave a web, what would it look like?

 

Even more so than usual exploration, you've got to know when and where to eat a meal or take a nap in Dwemer ruins. You never know what may be lurking down here. Good thing I'm not alone.

 

Uh oh. Chaurus eggs.

 

We came across a torture chamber. There's what's left of the expedition here... or part of it, at least. We were grimly surveying the area when Hoth of all people pipes up. "Well, that’s just nasty."

 

True enough.

 

Sofia has actually decided to wear some of the Falmer armor we've found. It's certainly better than the weatherbeaten leather armor she was borrowing from Arissa. Chaurus chitin is surprisingly durable, and few but the Falmer know how to work it into such protective plate. 

 

**\---Frostfall, 15th, 4E 201---**

Just as the two expedition leaders (?) came to a showdown, we barged into the room. Luckily I thought quick and jumped up onto a low podium- one Scroll of Blizzard later and we were flanking the hell out of them.

 

The Redguard woman had some very good steel plate which Vilja has claimed, and a very interesting sheild. I haven't seen its like before.

 

After that it was half an hour of work to chip/melt the podium out of the glacier that had filled up the room from the blizzard scroll. That was annoying.

 

Blackreach proper is gorgeous. Giant versions of those glowing mushrooms decorate the walls and ceiling of the cavern, and their spores fill their air with dancing lights.

 

I also hear Nirnroot. Interesting.

 

We've found the great alchemist Sinderion's final resting place down here. Amazing that we should find the same man as the one who wrote the signed book in Vilja's rucksack.

 

He seems to have some notes on a peculiar crimson form of Nirnroot. Maybe we can work with his research and finish what he started.

 

There are a lot of soul gems down here and I've taken the opportunity to enchant my armor at the station in Sinderion's lab.

 

I'm holding an Elder Scroll right now.

 

Naturally, the first thing I did was open it up and take a look.

 

It's really, really weird. It's like looking into the sun and away into shadow all at once, and these strange blue patterns dance all over the place. It feels like falling and having your organs fried at the same time, but it's not entirely unpleasant.

It also give me one hell of a headache.

 

The air is INCREDIBLY crisp after coming out of that stuffy, steamy ruin. It's a shock.

 

Off to find Signus... and if I'm right, the Heart. Gods. Shor will tremble with this shift in the balance of the cosmos.

 

Signus works for Hermaeus Mora. Who's surprised there?

 

Apparently we need a whole lot of elf blood to open it. Happy to oblige!

 

I think I know where to get Altmer... the rest I could probably get from bandits. Hopefully. I'd much prefer NOT to murder for this.

 

**\---Frostfall, 16th, 4E 201---**

Great. Now I've made a pact with the Woodland Man. My life just got much more interesting.

 

While we're up here, we might as well investigate what that Khajiit said, way back in the Reach. Something about the stars falling into the Sea of Ghosts. I figure that as long as we're up here, we might as well take a look- my companions are... less that happy with the idea of chasing after a skooma-crazed cat's vision, but I don't know... I have a feeling something's out there, and I've got a keen nose for these things. For now, I'm going to press on by myself and send them back to Septimus' outpost. None of them like the idea, but well... orders are orders. 

 

They all hate the idea of me going out into the ice alone, even Hoth. Vilja is particularly worried. They also hate the idea of being stuck with Septimus for at least a couple of days. I've asked them to go back home if I haven't returned within a week and find a way to stop Alduin. The Scroll is now in Arissa's hands.

 

Quite a lot to search after a rumor. But you know what they say.

 

The truth is out there.

 

I've decided to gulp down some Snowberry extract and swim northeast. Once my supply runs out I'll take some Frost Resist potions to stave off the cold, dry myself off with Vapor Blast, and light a fire with magic to warm up. Then I'll continue on foot.

 

Actually, I just remembered I have a Waterwalk spell. That's much more useful.

 

Hooo. Just took down an encampment of Rieklings all by myself. It's been awhile since I've worked alone.

 

If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say this encampment is made of East Empire Company stolen property.

 

After a quick examination of the fort I stumbled across, I can tell that there's just no way I'm going to be able to take it alone. Maybe if my companions were along for the ride, but from the looks of things I'd need a full platoon to crack this one.

 

Your days are numbered, mercenary scum. I'll be back.

 

Fortunately, I was able to Water Walk my way around the natural barrier the icy water would usually pose. There's a ship here.

 

Alright. Tried to take the boat, and I think I found an innovative new tactic.

 

Tossed a Storm Atronach down at the bottom of some stairs, then lit the stairs on fire with a flame shout. Any corsairs that wanted to attack me had to beat through the rapidly-spreading fire, and I could shove them back into it with Force shouts and shield bashes. Mixed with judicious use of potions beforehand, it turned out quite well.

 

However... the whole ship is burning now. I would have controlled the fire with Frost, but the Captain barreled out of the flames and dueled me right to the door as the fire spread. Had to get out after that.

 

**\---Frostfall, 18th, 4E 201---**

I just walked in on Hoth bathing without his gear on. It was terrifying. We made eye contact and I just... strolled right out. I wonder if he'll kill me for seeing the face behind his mask.

 

Vilja and Inigo have decided to clean the house. I'm working down in the basement with Sofia in the forge, while Arissa and Hoth are off doing who-knows-what. 

 

You know, we have the Scroll. We could take Alduin. Or at least, we could die trying. I'm going to wait to hone my skills and maybe even build an army before we take him on.

 

Hmm, I'm torn. If I help the Gray-Manes, I'm helping the Stormcloaks. But I'm also helping a man get back to his family. I don't know... If I save him, it may be a direct attack against the Empire. I don't want to kill Legionnaires. But if it's Thalmor... then hell yeah. It'd be helping everyone.

 

Other than the riffraff and adventurers I've met on my travels, I think that if I got the Companions, the Guild, and the College behind me for the final battle with Alduin things would work in our favor. Maybe even the Dark Brotherhood? Hah.

 

**\---Frostfall, 19th, 4E 201---**

After killing the man who ruined Arissa's family and finding all the evidence exonerating her and hers, we sat on a ledge overlooking a pit and just talked. Arissa told me who she really was, how long she's been out here, everything.

 

I don't know it It'd be right to write it down here, and I'm tired. So I don't think I will. But we sat there on that ledge and became true companions.

 

Heh. She's from the north bit of Hammerfell too, though more toward High Rock. Close enough. And she's twenty eight. Same age as me.

 

I wonder how old everyone here is?

 

**\---Frostfall, 20th, 4E 201---**

Just stopped a bunch of necromancers from resurrecting Potema. That would've been nasty if we hadn't intervened.

 

You know, the Reach is the only Hold we haven't traveled through. I suppose we ought to.

 

There's a Word of Power hidden along the way, no less. I think we'll rest up tonight and head west in the morning.

 

All the way up here and who do we run into but Belrand? He was having some trouble with a bunch of Blackblood scum and we swept in behind him and beat the tar out 'em. Hoth won't let it go. Heheh.

 

Note to self: Don't hunt rabbits with Dragon Shouts. You'll burn down a forest.

 

After we defeated the Undying King lording over Volskygge, we noticed something... Vilja wasn't with us. Our stomachs dropped right into the Deadlands and we ran back the way we came, calling her name.

 

We saw her at the foot of the stairs, her armor rent, an arrow sticking out of her collarbone. The emotion of the moment was beyond words.

 

I kneeled down, cursing my lack of healing hands, when her eyes fluttered open. We all sighed.

 

She wasn't in any condition to speak, but we could tell she was in great pain. I can't imagine what that must've been like, getting hit like that and watching your companions storm forward regardless, leaving you behind in a festering tomb. Horrible.

 

Why did it have to be Vilja? She's such a sweet thing. I'm imagining her home in her nightgown, reading a book by the fire, wine in hand, chatting softly with Inigo... what if that never happened again?

 

Why am I so uncomfortable with death?

 

I'm writing this as Hoth tends to her. That old merc has been through hell and high water, and he certainly knows his stuff. As soon as he saw her, his entire demeanor changed. He ordered Sofia and Inigo to gently move her head under a fur Arissa fetched, and started to probe the wound.

 

Arrows suck. Stabs, slashes, bruises- all those you can drink a potion or cast a spell. But arrows... you've got to remove it first. And that can kill, if you don't know what you're doing.

 

For the most part, we don't have to worry about that. We're all well armored, and arrows just bruise unless they're really forceful or hit a weak point.

 

Hoth helped Vilja drink some moonshine and had me prepare a potion of Restore Health. The poor girl was quite delirious by the time he yanked the arrow and I got the potion down her throat. After that, the wound quickly closed itself and her mind came back into focus... though she was still woozy from the booze. She's better now, but I think Inigo will be keeping her upright until we next rest. She's quite disoriented.

 

Gods. That was an ordeal I'd rather not go through again. Thank Stendarr for armor.

 

Just killed what I think was a Dragon Priest. The tomb inscription says "Volsung".

 

I'm torn between continuing on to the Reach and going back to High Hrothgar for some meditation. But my companions would much rather keep going, so I suppose I'll just catch a carriage back after our business is finished in Markarth.

 

Hah, just totally flabbergasted an Imperial patrol. We had practically just leaped off a mountain, summoned some Daedra, swatted a dragon out of the sky, and ended it right in front of them. Then I absorbed its soul.

 

I wonder what they're thinking?

 

Lightning bolts are awesome. Screw bows.

 

**\---Frostfall, 21st, 4E 201---**

Not all vampires are bad. That's nice to see.

 

And neither are the Forsworn. Though I think they're a little... too focused on the freedom part and not enough on the "civilization" part. But they've been here for hundreds of years, so maybe I'm wrong.

 

Man, the Civil War in the Reach really sucks. Empire, Stormcloaks and Forsworn, all bickering over the same patch of land. And then there's the Silverbloods bleeding everyone dry.

 

Strange. I get into Markarth and realize we're not here for any business in particular. When aren't we?

 

**\---Frostfall, 22nd, 4E 201---**

Man, the guards in the Reach are incredibly paranoid. I guess they've got to be.

 

Hmm. These big Sphere statues feel like they might come alive at any moment. I'm sure they're been checked out before though.

 

Just killed that horrible fuck Olemadar or Oldmar or whatever right in front of a keep full of guards and the Jarl, and what happens? I don't get executed or thrown into Cidhna Mine, I get fined 40 gold and sent on my way. Good riddance. I met that asshat at the Thalmor embassy and I've been dying to mount his head on my wall for weeks and weeks.

 

Elenwen's next, the frigid bitch.

 

**\---Frostfall, 23rd, 4E 201---**

The beds here are literally made of stone. No wonder everyone's so grouchy.

 

Holy SHIT, that was a weird fight. Spriggans, Thalmor, goblins, Alik’r, daedra, trolls, a fox!

 

DAMN! Just as we were about to finish off the Blood Dragon we were sent to kill, it calls for help and four more dragons fly in formation over the mountain. We nearly crapped a brick. Fortunately, we were able to down it and I slashed its throat as we got the hell out of there.

 

Ran into some more of those cultist freaks. I forgot about them.

 

**\---Frostfall, 26th, 4E 201---**

Hah, Falmer can't see very well so sometimes they stumble off ledges and balconies while we're fighting. Hilarious!

 

Why do these expeditions never expect Falmer? Like, they're not a secret. Falmer ears can be found in alchemy shops all over the province.

 

Oh, right. I forgot to mention. I am now in possession of the Mace of Molag Bal. Long story. Don't want to tell it. Don't make Daedric Pacts, kids.

 

Now I'm dealing with Nameria and Peryite. Seems like everyone has a stake in the Reach, even Daedra.

 

**\---Frostfall, 27th, 4E 201---**

Gods. I just got a letter from Falk Firebeard about what went down at Wolfskull Cave. Something's up. Important enough that he doesn't want to put it in print.

 

Not going to put this one off. We just barely stopped the ritual in the nick of time earlier, and I'm not keen on doing it twice. We're off to the Blue Palace.

 

Apparently, Potema escaped in spirit form once we broke the binding. She's out there still, though without a corporeal body. I'm going to talk to Solitude's priest of Arkay and discuss the matter further.

 

**\---Frostfall, 28th, 4E 201---**

It's too bad it took the near-return of one of the most powerful necromancers in history to get me to visit the Temple of the Divines.

 

Nothing's more satisfying than watching a fleeing enemy get wrecked by their own trap.

 

If it were up to me, Potema would've been burned and her ashes dumped into the sea. Then we wouldn't have to deal with this!

 

Her remains have been consecrated, and now I've got friends in high places. Jarl Elisif asked me on the down low to help her make an offering to Talos, and I'm happy to oblige. Could I be a thane here?

 

Falk is such a great guy. We couldn't quite run over to the Bard's College to tell them the tale- Elisif wants to keep it hush hush- but we did share some fine mead in the kitchen while we got down to the specifics. I actually remembered that I've been carrying around another bone of a Solitude tyrant with me for a while- Pelagius' hip bone. I asked Falk if he could let me into the abandoned wing, and he was hesitant, but conceded when I reminded him that treading in Solitude's dark places is kind of my specialty.

 

I think I'll do this bit by myself. The team deserves a night to themselves on the town.

 

Hah, Merida must be so pleased that it was Dawnbreaker that dealt the final blow to Potema.

 

Okay... got a weird staff named the Wabbajack when I got sucked into the mind of the long-dead Pelagius III. Thanks, “Uncle Sheo”. Gods above, I'm like some kind of Daedra magnet. The Vigil would hate me!

 

Looks like we're swinging by Whiterun. Good! It'll be nice to sort the loot and visit the Throat of the World.

 

Thane Bryling is my kind of woman.

 

**\---Frostfall, 31st, 4E 201---**

Looks like all I've got to do to become Thane is buy a 25,000 septim house in the city. Well. We'll see.

 

Hey, while we're in the neighborhood we might as well take a swing at the Embassy.

 

You know, one of the most satisfying things out there is eating a bandit's lunch.

 

Okay. We've found the Wreck of the Burning Queen. I really, really hope I won't have to go diving in this frigid water, but it may be unavoidable.

 

Seems like bandits have already picked it clean.


	4. Sun's Dusk

**\---Sun's Dusk, 2nd, 4E 201---**

Met a merc on the road, and offered to help her out with the job she's on. Made camp, built roaring fire, and now we're hanging around drinking and telling stories. This mercenary, bless her, is getting more and more incredulous the more truth we tell her. Haven't mentioned that I'm the Dragonborn, though. I think it'll be better for her to figure that one out later by herself!

 

Hey, sounds like Inigo has seen one of my father's enchanted maps before. That's pretty cool!

 

Captain Aldis... if I swung that way, yes. Oh yes.

 

Orenius Scilus reminds me of my grandfather. Or, at least, what my mother told me about him. Wise, but unable to take his own advice. Driven.

 

Inigo was complaining of some serious sounding symptoms earlier. Like "his mind was being pulled out of his ears." Told him to let me know if it happens again. Hopefully it was just something he ate. Gods know he's not picky!

 

I wonder why you can kill ghosts with corporeal weapons? Kyne knows their icy daggers can ignore your armor, so... do they choose to be injured? I can understand silver weapons working on them, and those forged by Daedra... but regular ones shouldn't.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 5th, 4E 201---**

Okay, the thing happened to Inigo again. He's had some kind of vision of something shiny under a rug, a cabin in the woods, and a bearded man. Honestly, that describes most of Skyrim. With any luck the problem will go away, but more likely his visions will resolve themselves and we'll know where to find this place.

 

The necromancer set up in Yngvild is a real creep, and not just in the standard "evil experiments" or "take over the town/province/world" way. More in the "raise dead bodies, then screw them because I have no luck with women" way. Awful. I hope slaying him will let the spirits of the women here rest.

 

Vilja's face always gets caked with blood one way or another, and it really grosses her out.

 

Hah, mages are all the same. Dangerous when they're upright and focused, but shake the ground beneath their feet and they're no better in a fight than an unarmed commoner.

 

For retrieving the Helm of Winterhold, Jarl Korir bestowed upon our noble party of adventurers... 50 septims.

 

Ugh.

 

Off to Riften, I think. Getting tired of the cold.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 6th, 4E 201---**

Troll blood poison. Yeah. If it's absolutely got to die, you use that. I hear you can do the same with werewolf blood, but werewolves are in short supply around here.

 

Inigo's arm is always "playing up" when Vilja asks him to arm wrestle. "Old battle injury" my arse!

 

Incidentally, we're just in time to deliver that case of "Mogo's Mead" to Maven Black-Briar's little tasting party. Our two friends are here and the Breton is looking quite pleased with herself.

 

Yeah, didn't take long for them to figure out it was Skooma. Next time I'm in the reach, we'll catch up.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 7th, 4E 201---**

Alright, Inigo is still being affected by... whatever it is, but at least he thinks he knows where we need to go. Snowpoint Beacon, near... Dawnstar. Ugh.

 

Stumbled into a watchtower looking for a place to stay and we got pushed upstairs by a particularly sullen Dunmer. Imagine my surprise when I found a Dremora hosting a party up there! Apparently, the Dunmer had no idea what was going on. The Dremora was very polite, and said he served Sanguine. You know... I've not run into that Prince yet. I think. Time will tell!

 

I love books! Just wish I had more time for them.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 8th, 4E 201---**

Bonebreak Fever. Probably got it from a Cave Bear. Even writing is exhausting.

 

Vilja & I took stock of our alchemical reagents. We've got Vampire Dust- according to her field book, that can cure disease. But we haven't got a catalyst.

 

There's a river at the foot of the mountain. Hoth suggested he catch some mudcrabs. Apparently their chitin can work.

 

At least the view is nice from here. Maybe dinner will be good. Hoth says he'll cook. Usually I do that. Or Vilja. The rest of the party can't cook at all.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 8th, 4E 201---**

Got the chitin. I probably could make the potion myself, but I'm tired. My mind isn't dulled, though. I'm instructing Vilja how to do it, since she's so interested in becoming a better alchemist- how to crush the chitin, how to keep the vampire dust from sublimating before it can be brewed, that sort of thing. She's doing well.

 

Among-The-Hist. Boulderfall Cave. A candidate.

 

Time we bring the blood to Septimus. The Woodland Man is patient, but should not be ignored.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 10th, 4E 201---**

There was no heart, but a book.

 

Signus fell to ash at the sight of it.

 

Arissa hates travelling in the boring, cold, remote, and dangerous northeastern holds. Can't blame her.

 

A curious dragon took some passes at us, and we returned the favor. Sure enough the whelp calls for help and four more dragons crest the hill before us. Nobody in their right minds would fight five dragons at once, so we finished of the young one and booked toward an Imperial camp I knew to be in the area. There were some P.O. soldiers there and we were able to route the dragons.

 

Nothing says "desperate" like picking through the bones of a beached ship for food. I just don't want to cook mudcrab in this weather.

 

I was just about to open up on the mudcrabs infesting the Brinehammer's belowdecks with a flame spell when I remembered the last time I lit things on fire in the belly of a ship. Used a frost spell instead.

 

My father always told me stories about Topal the Pilot. I suspect tales about that elf's cartographic journeys when the world was young is what inspired my father to pursue his trade.

 

What do you know? Met my friend Qa'Dojo at the Shrine of Azura. A dark elf there gave the me the usual schtick: I'm the chosen of Azura, go find a guy in Winterhold to fulfill a vague and dire prophecy. Same old same old. I wonder if all the Aedra and Daedra in Oblivion can't just find someone else to do their dirty work? Other than the whole "dragon soul" business the only thing between me and some other mercenary is high pain tolerance and a way with people. Or something like that.

 

Walked back into town with Qa'Dojo. Neither of us are very gregarious but we had a taciturn sort of exchange that was very refreshing.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 12th, 4E 201---**

Looks like we're headed for Falkreath. Excellent!

 

I love how arrogant dragons are. They see six puny two-legged strips of meat toddling around on the ground and swoop in like they're hot shit, only to have us shred their wings and pummel them until they die. And then I eat their soul. That must be so embarrassing.

 

The sunken fort is really quite a breathtaking sight. I can't shake the feeling I've been somewhere like this before...

 

Kyne, I hate Frost magic. Saps the vigor right from your limbs.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 14th, 4E 201---**

Awesome. I can write "Entered a Daedric Artifact to purge it of crazy wizard souls" off my bucket list, as well as "gain the favor and watchful eye of Azura" and "Become the owner of the most powerful soul gem on Nirn".

 

Seems like no matter what plane of oblivion you're on, evil wizards always monologue. Right as he was telling me how he was going to turn me inside out with his mind I knocked him to the ground with a shout and jammed Dawnbreaker into the arrogant prick's neck. Bam. Soul Gem cleansed, and I didn't have to fight summoned Daedra or get burnt to a crisp by fireballs. I wonder why they always think I'll sit and listen to them jaw? Courtesy?

 

We found the hut in Inigo's visions. There an ornery weirdo living in there who's been stalking Inigo for the past "few decades", which is hardly reassuring. He think's he's Inigo's best friend- Inigo told him curtly I hold that honor- and he barely wants to acknowledge that I exist, let alone the rest of the party. He's ignoring them outright- Hoth and Arissa are keeping quiet, Vilja seems a little hurt, and Sofia is chattering insults quietly in the corner but is otherwise uninvolved.

 

Apparently Inigo is destined to slay the "Doom Strider," whatever that is. We've been spending the past hour or so harvesting Snow Thrush eggs outside for a potion or something and we're about to deliver ‘em.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 15th, 4E 201---**

Wow. He didn't even need the eggs. It was a plot to get us out of the house. Sofia spat something acidic at him- which he ignored- and Vilja is looking frustrated. Arissa is no doubt immune to snobbishness, and Hoth has seen it all before and is- as usual- uninvolved.

 

I have a feeling that this "Doom Strider" is a metaphor for Skooma. We shall see.

 

Langley has a locked trapdoor under his bed. I filched a key off him, but it didn't fit the lock so I put it back on his ring.

 

The summoning spell works! Excellent. I wonder if it works on a similar principal to the Call Of Oakshore, that enchanted horn that Arissa gave me?

 

In any case, Langely and Sofia have gotten into a sardonic duel of tongues. I think some of his jabs actually affected her! Heheh. Two outcast mages with sharp tongues and adventurous spirits? Hmm!

 

Ahh, I don't know. Will I ever settle down? Unlikely. Sofia and I have history... but that's more fliriting than anything. Maybe. I don't know.

 

Ahh, this is going to take another page.

 

So as I was saying, I doubt Sofia and I would really want to settle down with each other anyway. We're not really long-haulers. Maybe.

 

Vilja and I..? There's promise there. We both love to relax and live a domestic kind of life. There's mutual respect, mutual interests. We'd age well together, I think.

 

Arissa and I... hmm. I'm not sure. We're really more "partners in crime" than "partners in love". She's my longest companion, if you don't count Sofia and Inigo, sort of. And I can't help shake the feeling that I've met Vilja before somewhere... and something is so familiar about Hoth... Hah.

 

So hypothetically if I were to settle down and choose a bride, it'd probably be Vilja. From an objective standpoint. Hell, I doubt I'd ever settle down at all, like I said. Interparty romance is always weird. Maybe after the world is saved.

 

I'm glad I don't have to worry about Arissa stealing this journal at night for a glimpse. Right, Arfero?

 

Gods. Inigo's father's journal is incredibly precious.

 

I hope I can live a life like that one day.

 

A realization: I am tall, broad, golden-haired, and fight with a sword and shield, like Fergus.

 

I wonder if Inigo makes the same comparison in his mind, consciously or otherwise? I'd be proud to pick up where his brother left off, in the metaphorical sense.

 

Oh, I don't know. Inigo and his whole family are very dear to me. His life at home seemed so full of love. Not that mine wasn't- but it was a different dynamic. Riverhold is a much better place to raise a family than Aberdeen.

 

Always sad to see a dead horse. And always difficult not to beat it!

 

Dead horse, though... we should check this place out.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 16th, 4E 201---**

Blood everywhere, a body with a Falmer War Axe sticking out of it, and a dead Charus. Of course.

 

Well, let's get cracking.

 

Charus liars tend to be, as Inigo so eloquently puts it, "cold and smelly". He's right. They suck.

 

They're even smellier when you're torching all their eggs with a flame spell.

 

Woke up with a bottle of mead, a pair of rabbit haunches, and the Rattles. Good thing we made so many potions of Cure Disease earlier.

 

Looks like we're off to purge Mount Anthor of dragons.

 

Gods, I love being able to clear the weather.

 

We'll stay the night at the Shrine and take the dragons in the morning, once the sun is out and we're well rested. Nothing harder than trying to hit a flying dragon at night.

 

Apparently the shrinemaiden is looking for adventure. Blades!

 

No way to warm up like lighting a bush on fire with destruction magic.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 17th, 4E 201---**

Apparently Hoth knew one of the corpses we found on Mount Anthor. Small world?

 

I think it's time we went home. We're all in need of some serious R&R.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 18th, 4E 201---**

I'm looking through our potion stocks and I realized that we have roughly 31 pounds of dragon blood in there. Wow.

 

Ahh, home sweet home. The loot is sorted, Vilja and Arissa are at the Inn, Inigo and I are picking some clothing out for him, Hoth is in the springs out back (in his armor... naturally), and I think Sofia is in the attic. I hear thumping. Not gonna ask.

 

Inigo and I are enjoying some Wyrm and Chips with one of our fireside chats. In the end, we discovered that my wardrobe is actually pretty small and most of it is in red, which really clashes with Inigo's fur, so he's just wearing my "cooking fatigues" which are a more neutral white.

 

That lighthouse really was awful. We also talked about Alduin and the Doom Strider, and how we should probably be doing something about them.

 

Inigo thinks that Merida owes him a sword, too, but I brought up the Mehrunes Longbow that he picked up a while back, which is similar. Kinda. Is it really a Daedric Artifact? We don't know.

 

We also had that chat about Langley. I think we can trust him. He's just... brusque.

 

We also had a heart-to-heart about Inigo's debt to me. I forgive him completely. I'd even get shot in the head again to keep our friendship alive, honestly.

 

He still has to work through the guilt on his own time, but this certainly helped. He says the fight with his first dragon was when he could really feel his life turning around. I must admit I don't remember that particular fight very well, but I do know that your first tussle with a wyrm is completely unforgettable. Inigo is such a good friend. Masser and Scunda watch over him, always.

 

What was probably going to be another scattered evening ended up being a really nice dinner! Vilja and I were back in the kitchen wondering what to make and Arissa starts to wax nostalgic about the big dinners she used to have at her estate. Vilja and I decided right then that we'd cook up a big stately dinner! It was really fun. Inigo and Arissa liked the idea but Hoth and Sofia were, as usual, the cynics who wanted to be left alone for the evening.

 

After we set the table (which Arissa dictated- apparently table setting is a skill in itself-), we all sat down and ate. It was awesome. The solution to the "Hoth & Sofia being sticks-in-the-mud" problem was solved with the liberal application of alcohol, which brightened their spirits.

 

After the main course some of us provided some entertainment. Inigo was still shy about the songs he's been writing and- despite drunked jabs from Sofia- declined to sing them. Seizing the initiative, she got to her feet and belted out The Cave Was Her Home, followed by Bow & Arrow, The Legendary Duo, and some assorted tavern songs that got progressively dirtier as her flagon got shallower.

 

Arissa and I aren't very musical, but Arissa did some slight-of-hand tricks which were very clever. On me, mostly. It was pretty funny, actually- that night was a long shot from the rainy Falkreath one we met on. Who'dve seen this coming?

 

After she was done and I made sure all my teeth were still in my head (you never know!) I got up and did some magic tricks, juggling with Telekinesis and doing fire dances from Hammerfell and such. It was pretty difficult drunk- I was sure I'd singe something, but I managed to keep the house intact. Sofia wanted me to do something clever with my Voice but I'd prefer NOT to destroy our home.

 

While all this was going on Hoth was hanging in the corner enjoying himself (?) and pushing bits of meat up behind his mask. I wonder why he wears it? Reputation?

 

Vilja said it'd be fun to play something together, and I rushed downstairs to get my lute. We decided to play Somersault and followed it up with Dance of the Dwemer Pots, which were some nice lively tunes. It was a lot of fun!

 

I haven't touched that thing in ages, but I can see I'm still good enough to play some standards drunk. Hidden depths, right?

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 19th, 4E 201---**

The rest of the night is harder to remember, but judging by the state of things some table dancing happened. Hoth is out- not sure where- and Sofia is passed out in front of the fire. Arissa got up early and is doing her makeup in the washroom.

 

Vilja is sound asleep in her bed- I'm amazed she got into her nightgown, but her hair's a mess and I think she won't be very happy about that when she wakes up. Inigo is not actually that disheveled- probably because he doesn't drink. He's reclining in the attic right now feeling smug that there's no hangover for him.

 

Myself, I'm pretty smashed. It's strange being able to move so freely- I'm used to wearing that heavy Orcish armor near constantly. I'm sure the feeling is shared by the rest of the party- no supplies to worry about, no weapons, no armor, no potions, no arrows, no nothing. Just comfortable clothing and whatever's in your hand. We didn’t really intend to have a shindig like this, but it’s hard to get drunk when you’re travelling and I think it was good to just stop thinking for a while and laugh instead of solving everyone’s problems and being shivved by bandits.

 

I spent the morning cleaning up the mess- it really wasn't that bad, especially when you have magic at your disposal. Dishes were cleaned and put away, trash was taken out, furniture was put in order, stains and spills were dealt with, et cetera et cetera. After that I headed to the indoor springs for a little more R&R before I had to strap all my armor back on and hit the road, and was surprised to see Vilja join me after a few minutes.

 

Not that I was uncomfortable seeing her in her bathing suit- quite the opposite. It was just... so very companionable to relax in your smallclothes up to your neck in warm water with someone you've shared so many adventures with.

 

Imagine my surprise when she came over and sat on my knee! My eyebrows were up, certainly, but it wasn't really an... aggressive move. She didn't suggest much more in conversation- I think she's just that comfortable with me. I'm very honored.

 

Still though I can't help but wonder about the whole Sofia-Vilja-Me love triangle. Does that even exist? What if I'm just imagining things that aren't there?

 

I have a feeling that Hoth would have some advice. Good advice? Only the gods know. Arissa would be a good candidate as well but she'd smirk from here to Colovia and I don't want to deal with that.

 

I think Inigo is too much of a talker- and too inexperienced in love- to be of much use. I guess I should just ignore the whole situation until the World Eater is dealt with.

 

Alright, the house is clean and we're all well rested and together. Time to strap all our armor on and head out.

 

Right now, I need two things- a pair of mammoth tusks for Vilja's list, and clothes for Inigo. Time to get back on the road!

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 20th, 4E 201---**

I'm pleasantly surprised to some Khajiit caravans inside the city.

 

Off to Windhelm.

 

Just slew this weirdly small troll. Vilja said it was called a "Pygmy Hill Troll". Huh.

 

I love Hunter Camps. They're like little free Inns in the wilderness.

 

Apparently Vilja thinks it's fun to listen to my "constant swearing about annoying creatures and crap weapons". Heh, I didn't realize there was entertainment value there!

 

Every time I come to the gates of Windhelm I wonder how the Empire will knock them down.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 22nd, 4E 201---**

None of my companions really like Windhelm either.

 

Just ran into a writer in Candlehearth Hall. What do you know?

 

Met a little girl selling flowers in the city. Her prices were quite something- 98 septims for a deathbell, 35 for a mountain flower. I bought two of each. My purse can certainly take the hit, and she could certainly use the gold.

 

I wonder if I'll ever have a child, through adoption or birth. Skyrim makes plenty of orphans. Hell. I make plenty of orphans. Hate to think about that.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 23rd, 4E 201---**

Apparently Falanu Hlaalu is the author of "100 Uses of Falmer Ear" or whatever that book is called. Small world!

 

We elected not to stay the night in Windhelm or Kynesgrove. Candlehearth is fine and all, but the hot springs of Eastmarch are worth the trip. Instead of relaxing in a dingy inn full of racists or miners, we've got our toes in the water and our lungs full of pure air hidden away in the Eldergleam's sacred grotto.

 

We've passed through here before, but haven't often had the time to explore the place more thoroughly. Arissa has uncovered some rare plants and is

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 24th, 4E 201---**

talking excitedly to Vilja about their alchemical properties.

 

Ugh. Had to give some more blood to restore Heneri. I'm tired of bleeding all the time! Not that I do, of course. I am, after all, skilled in Restoration magic. I can still feel pain, though! Pain hurts!

 

The relaxed atmosphere was quickly put under siege by Heneri, who is currently chattering to Inigo about her daughter over by the roots. The poor cat is taking it like a champ and nodding at all the right times, but is looking increasingly desperate. We should go soon. 

 

Vilja also received a letter from Wilbur. He's leaving Skyrim soon, apparently, and wants to see her before he goes. So Vilja's off to Dawnstar- ugh- and the rest of us are going to escort Heneri to her new home (boy will that be interesting), then travel northeast in Vilja's footsteps.

 

I really wish the path at the entrance of the Sanctuary was better maintained. It's easy to trip.

 

Heneri says she's got a "bad feeling" about Vilja and suggests we go after her. Hmm. I know a hint when I see one.

 

Still. Hope she's okay. We're after her now.

 

Gods. Wilbert was talking to Vilja about leaving for Cyrodiil to learn to be a bard. She does have great talent. I didn't ask what she decided- I asked where she went. Wilbur didn't know. Said some big nords, Halvdan among them, said they'd "teach that wildcat a lesson". Gods. This is why you don't split the party. I should've gone with her. I feel like it's that time in the crypt all over again- realizing she's missing, going back, finding her bleeding out on the dusty floor...

 

Focus. We're after her. Nobody hurts one of mine. We're all on edge. Everyone's steely. We're coming.

 

Brinehammer. Huh. Brigands like the place.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 25th, 4E 201---**

Thank the gods, she's alright. Knocked out, tied up, dragged here. Slipped out of her bonds, clever girl, just as we arrived. On the wings of a miracle. We're getting out of here.

 

It occurs to me that much of Whiterun Hold is unknown to me. I tend to stay to the east, near the city, and when I'm travelling towards Solitude or Markarth I usually take the high or low roads, never right across the tundra. Hell, I've never even been to Rorikstead! 

 

Vilja has chosen to stay here, in Skyrim. I don't know what to say. It's an incredible honor. I'm relieved and proud and everything all at once.

 

Hah. When I put down that big nord with the Orcish greatsword I was sure it was Haldvan. Apparently not. Coward's still in Solstheim. Maybe we'll see him when we go sort out that... Dragonborn business.

 

Shit, that's still on the table. Those cultists still jump us now and again, but I've got so many factions out for my blood I just lump them in with the bandits.

 

Ducked into a crypt to get out of the cold and have a bite- lots of dead draugr, could hear the sounds of fighting up ahead. Chestnut-haired nord woman, fighting a heavily armed draugr with her War Pick.

 

We rushed in, flanked the bastard. After that, the introductions. Her name's Anska, and there's a scroll in here that may link her blood to Ysgramor's. Lucky for her, we're here to help!

 

Ha! Mages are all the same, from novices to the most powerful lich. I've said if before and I'll say it again- if you knock them off their feet, they're as good as dead!

 

We're one Dragon Priest mask richer. Good work, everyone.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 26th, 4E 201---**

Not quite sure what to do next. I think we'll head over to Morthal and catch a carriage to Riften, or maybe Whiterun. Don't quite know.

 

I do owe Jarl Ravencrone my thanks though, for her help at the Embassy. And who knows... maybe adventure will call while we're there.

 

Ducked in, shared a nod, ducked out. We're both busy people.

 

Think we'll head back home. Arissa and Sofia are relieved we're not spending much time in this swamp. Hoth is as expressionless as ever but I think he was looking forward to returning to his old haunt, the Moorside Inn.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 27th, 4E 201---**

When we got home, Arissa and I started our ritual sorting of the loot. It was one in the morning when we realized how tired and sluggish we were, so we checked out and went to bed, deciding to continue sorting in the morning.

 

Of course, Vilja had slipped into her nightgown as soon as we got home and went right to bed. We woke up to the scent of potato leek stew and Vilja's fluting voice talking about cooking with Hoth-- apparently, substituting Fire Salts for regular salt gives one terrible heartburn. The old guy was already up and nursing his perpetual hangover with some hair of the dog. Maybe that's why he's so grouchy.

 

In any case, it was pretty much just like any other morning. Vilja had risen early and went about cooking and cleaning with her signature morning cheer, Hoth was already awake (again-- does he even sleep?), Sofia was still out cold or was pretending to be, et cetera et cetera.

 

Right now I'm finishing up my soup and bread and talking with Arissa about how filthy our bedsheets get after we come home. We really ought to bathe before we get under the covers, but we're always so tired...

 

Laundry really is a chore, especially on the precipice of winter like we are now. Thank Kyne for his home's enchantments! They make life so much easier.

 

Anyway, we're all up and about by now. I'm going to go around and collect the dirt-streaked, blood-soaked sheets and give them a good washing while Arissa finishes putting away the loot.

 

I just need a Zenithar Amulet and my collection will be complete.

 

I was sharpening a few steel arming swords we had laying about and talking with Vilja. She says that she's worried something will happen again... that one of us will get hurt. 

 

Said she's so happy now, and hopes we'll be okay.

 

Couldn't bring myself to make any promises. I remember her dying on the ground... What if that was me? Or Inigo or Arissa or Sofia or Hoth or...

 

Gods. Capable men and women die all the time. They trip on a root or get caught unawares. They eat poisoned food, freeze to death in the wilderness, catch deadly diseases, cast a spell wrong... and that's not even counting the province full of bandits, dragons, trolls, draugr, vampires, daedra, falmer, Thalmor, and civil war factions baying for blood.

 

I hope we all live to see the end of this.

 

Gods, I just realized how wrong it is that we waltz into a Giant camp, kill them all, and take their things. Mammoth Cheese is good and all, but really..?

 

I guess I can keep telling myself that I'm keeping the roads safe and Giants out of the Stormcloak army, but really... They weren't bothering anyone.

 

Damn, I still haven't learned much about their culture.

 

Ended up wandering down towards Riften, and wouldn't you know it- a vampire attack started as just as we were putting up our feet in the Bee and Barb. I've never seen a creature so thoroughly trounced as the bloodsucker that burst into the Inn-- he was immediately set upon by roaring nords,  master thieves, and bolts of lightning-- and my own party, of course.

 

**\---Sun's Dusk, 28th, 4E 201---**

We're here at the Bard's College to deliver some stuff- saw the young Sindra there. She greeted us in that fluffy-cloud manner of hers and she and Vilja ducked off to catch up.

 

If I remember correctly, Inigo said he's sing here...

 

What do you know- ran into the other combatant in that duel between the Breton and the Nord. Don't know if I even bothered to write down the Nord's hot air, but seeing the other side of the coin is quite interesting.

 

Wonder how all that will turn out.

 

We found an empty classroom and Inigo sung us a few of his songs.

 

...Well. I thought it was classic Inigo material. Arissa looked a little mortified. Vilja was supportive, but she doesn't have a bad bone in her body. Sofia is also an self-taught writer of music and was surprisingly encouraging. And Hoth just leaned and looked bemused.

 

Well, at least we already have a bard in the party. Hehe! But really, what Inigo lacks in singing voice he makes up for in spirit. And you can learn to sing well-- but few are as lucky to have as much soul as him.

 

And besides, maybe we're not just his most compatible audience. He'd be really great with kids.

 

Actually, that reminds me- We're gonna go clothing shopping! Woo!

 

Got Inigo some comfortable, high class clothes. Perfect for lounging or attending a function! They're in the same style as mine too-- we're blue and red, respectively. We both think that's pretty neat!

 

Vilja has her dresses from Solstheim, Sofia has her tavern clothes, and Arissa (curiously) has elected to keep wearing her somewhat plain merchant dress. Maybe it's a lesson in humility. Or she doesn't want to give those snotty elf girls her business. One of those.

 

Hoth of course is never out of his armor, ever. Except that one time. I still shudder to imagine it.

 

Gods, I nearly had a heart attack when I looked around and couldn't find Vilja. I had a flashback to that conversation we had earlier, and the time we left her behind and...

 

Ugh, it was horrible. She was just caught up in a conversation with Vici about her wedding.

 

Maybe I need to relax...

 

You know, as long as we're in up north we should take a shot at getting Mjoll's sword. To Hjaalmarch!


	5. Evening Star

**\---Evening Star, 1st, 4E 201---**

I think it's funny how Inigo and Vilja hang out with Lydia so much. I mean, she's my Housecarl, but we hardly ever talk. Or see each other.

 

By Inigo and Vilja's conversation, however, I gather that she eats a lot of bread and sleeps with her eyes open. And sits in a particular chair all the time. And apparently, she's Balgruuf's niece. I didn't know she has noble blood.

 

She sounds fun. Maybe we should ask her to tag along at some point.

 

Turns out Mzinchaleft had been fortified by at least three dozen bandits. I broke out my staves for this one-- a rain of fireballs from on high and a daedric pit fighter in your midst tends to hurt. After the fight, we realized Hoth was missing.

 

I've been scared lately that I might lose these people-- my heart used to be hard. I used to be a pretty ruthless commander of men. Or at least a pragmatic one. Knew that losses were unavoidable. And that was just little stuff-- now it's just the few of us trying to save the world.

 

We did a sweep and found him half buried in a mound of smouldering bodies, wheezing hard, with the splintered business end of a filigreed spear between the ribs of his armor.

 

Rushed over to him quick-- damn thing was in pretty deep. He could hardly talk what with the blood in his lung-- though his eyes said plenty as we cleared the area for triage.

 

There he lay, fate finally having caught up with him, the whelps he was with slicing on ahead in the chaos of battle without him, burning bodies pushing the head of a spear deeper into his chest. No way for a storied old Nord like him to die, hidden under carrion, alone...

 

Sofia, trembling, tried to jam a particularly powerful healing potion we found on the bandits under his mask, but he knocked it away with surprising force for someone in his condition and incredibly managed to heave that “Gotta take the damn spear out first, curr…"

 

Long story short that between his incredible grit, the healing potions, and Vilja and I's Restoration magic he was back on his feat in an hour or two.

 

Seems a brush with death loosened his tongue a little, too. Right now he's grouching at us about healing him "too well", because now there probably won't be a trophy scar. He's also being uppity at Sofia, saying that he's going to teach her proper Nord battlefield medicine if it kills him. Poor girl's daedra-may-care attitude is on loose ground right now and he may be being a little forceful... but if he wants to teach her discipline, I hope by all means he does.

 

Alright, got Grimsever. Didn't expect it to be Glass. Mjoll will be thrilled!

 

You know, while we're at it we should grab Pelgurt's family sword. Everyone's always losing their damn swords. Or amulets. By the nine, why can't I ever go after a stolen horse or something?

 

Strange. We were just walking along and a huge gust of wind blasted us from the North, coming down from over an old burial ground. Nearly knocked us over, and among the snow and sleet driven up by the gale, the tendrils of a dragon soul found its way to me.

 

First time that's happened. Dead dragon downwind? Soul drifting on the breeze? Who knows. Weirdly, it tired me out something fierce. Downed a strength potion and kept walking-- can't afford to pitch a tent this deep in Hjaalmarch.

 

As we were travelling, we bumped into none other than Ange the Song-Bearer-- that bard I ran across earlier that sounded just like Sofia.

 

We walked together for a while, talking mostly about the war. Everyone else in the party were visibly confused by her voice. Sofia's hackles were definitely up.

 

**\--Evening Star, 2nd, 4E 201---**

Roaring wind or roaring dragon?

 

Believe it or not, we were passing by a giant camp (wishing the bonfire was ours) when I caught sight of a much smaller figure tending the flames.

 

Turns out it was a nord who thought he was a giant-- Jo'tun. I don't know which god led me to him, but I asked him about giants and their culture and he gave me plenty of information and a look from their perspective. I'll think twice the next time I find one of their camps.

 

With his blessing, we were even able to rest there a few hours. It was strange to stay in a giant camp, to say the least. The Jo'tun kept giving us looks, and we them, but after an hour or two we both went about our business-- cleaning hides, sharpening swords, milking mammoths, focusing soul gems, scratching backs, sorting potions.

 

After a while we packed up and left without a word. 

 

I just killed a feral husky when a Fear spell would've served me just as well. Should I spare them? Or would they harass more travellers?

 

**\---Evening Star, 3rd, 4E 201---**

Cleared a fort, and there was an Inn there. "Stumbling Sabrecat". Cleared the bandits, searched the place... found a family dead in their bed. Probably killed in the raid without even waking up.

 

Turned them and the bandits to ash, then raided the pantry. Had a light dinner using the potatoes we found, slept in till the sun came back up.

 

It's odd how easily we sleep in a building that's had so much death in it. The stink hardly bothers us.

 

Guess the whole province is like that. I don't keep track of how many people I've killed at this point. It's nothing to be proud of, despite what the skalds say.

 

What would I do without Arissa? She's such a well of useful knowledge and advice.

 

Sofia would walk everywhere barefoot if she could.

 

Alright. Sword #1 delivered. Now off to Riften.

 

I keep hearing about Kynesgrove having been attacked by a dragon. We'll pass through on the way south.

 

**\---Evening Star, 4th, 4E 201---**

The town seems fine. Not even the thatch is burned.

 

I've been hearing about that attack for weeks, though. Plenty of time for the village to repair itself before we came through.

 

Mjoll has her sword and says she'd be honored to accompany us on our travels. Blades material!

 

As we were about to turn in for the night, we heard the shouting of some guards a deep crackling roar. We turned the corner, and bam! There was fire spreading all over-- probably from a knocked over lantern or something. I don't think the thieves guild would order arson like this.

 

Fortunately, Sofia and I were there. We rushed forward and put the blaze out with our ice magic. Felt good to help.

 

Funnily enough, I just read a history book we found a few nights ago about Riften. It used to be a larger city before a chunk of it burnt down. Whoever decided to build the city out of wood?

 

Well, the Rift IS full of trees. I suppose that's a good enough reason.

 

This hold really is gorgeous. I can see why Inigo likes it here.

 

**\---Evening Star, 5th, 4E 201---**

We just met this incredible couple in Shor's Stone-- a poet nord and his khajiit wife. They seem very much in love-- finding the two of them on this peaceful night in the Fall Forest is truly a gift from Mara: the insects chirp, the brooks rumble, and the fog billows across the road like a dream.

 

The nord said two interesting things; the first, that he's haunted by dreams of vicious cold, the second that he hopes to adopt a child in Riften.

 

That's wonderful! I just hope the city doesn't disappoint. It might.

 

Perhaps we should escort them there. I'd be safer.

 

Yes, I think we shall. We should visit Shor's Stone in the daylight anyway, when the shops are open and the locals are out of their homes.

 

Not to mention a trip back to Riften doubles our time in this lovely evening. It's not far from here, really. And this way we can be sure our friends will be safe.

 

Unless I'm some sort of monster magnet, and it brings them into even more danger. It's not impossible. Regular people don't fight half as many draugr, dragons, and daedra as I do.

 

We asked them if they'd like us with us, and they respectfully declined. Understandable-- if I were on an evening stroll with my lovely wife in the beautiful forests of the Rift, I wouldn't want a bunch of greedy, scarred, fur-wrapped, talkative adventurers nipping at my heels.

 

The inn we stayed at was quite small, but the man keeping it was nice enough. He had some wonderful blankets that Vilja said must be from Solstheim and a well arranged vase of dragon's tongue and lavender that Arissa's critical eye approved of.

 

The morning weather proved as fair as last night's, and as we were just stretching our legs and looking down the road, I noticed a the blacksmith talking anxiously with a miner.

 

Apparently, Frostbite Spiders skittered into Redbelly mine a few days ago and set up shop. The town guard are being the usual batch of cowards and refuse to help-- and without the mine, the town will dry up.

 

When Inigo heard this, his eyes lit up-- this wouldn't be the first town he's saved from a spidery menace. He looked over to me, and I nodded that yes, of course we're going to help out!

 

Sofia was less enthusiastic, though. She hates fighting spiders and she didn't want to change into her armor. Said she wanted to take a break and enjoy the weather. Vilja and Arissa were of the same mind-- Vilja seemed a little upset when I mentioned Redbelly’s spider problem; apparently, she was looking forward to relaxing in the sun with a book and some wine. Arissa said that Inigo and I could handle it if we wanted, because she would be busy poking around. Hoth, taking the initiative, dragged Sofia off to a porch for the training he promised.

 

Now it's just Inigo and I. Sounds fun!

 

As we were heading back to for our gear, Vilja mentioned to me that though Inigo is great fun, she just can't understand his obsession with spiders! She says they're ghastly. Can't argue with that, but it's the little things that make someone so interesting-- and Inigo's spider quirk is one of them.

 

The mine has been cleared! That was fun. Inigo has a big grin across his face.

 

Ugh. It got cloudy. Wonder if I can clear it up again with a shout..?

 

No, that didn't do much. I guess it just works for rain and snow.

 

Inigo and I are relaxing on a bench overlooking the street. A chicken is pecking around at our feet, and we're just sheltered enough from the wind to be comfortable but still feel its caress.

 

Just as the sun was past its zenith enough for the darkness to be noticeable, none other than Among-The-Hist steps out of a shop.

 

Apparently he's here for the company. "Isolation... is bad for the heart."

 

True.

 

I spent the night around the fire, drinking and telling tales with the miners. Retired soldiers, working women, old hands, arrogance, humbleness. Every person is unique. Every person has come from somewhere and made decisions along the way, and everyone is stepping inexorably into the future. Had a conversation sort of like that with Inigo after we got out of the mine.

 

Anyway, I did a lot more listening than talking, as is my custom. They never asked for my name and I never offered it. Didn't tell too many stories of mine-- even the boring ones are outlandish-- just that I was a warrior travelling with my party looking for work. One of the minors mentioned that she hurt herself, and was healed a bit by a Priest of Mara.

 

I reached over with a spell prepared and looked into her eyes for permission. She glanced down at the golden light rippling around my hand and then nodded; I put my hand on her knee and sent out a pulse of restoration magic that dimmed the fire we were sitting around.

 

Hell, I'm such a showoff. Felt a little embarrassed after that. But she said she felt less tender, so I suppose it was a good deed.

 

After that the party met back up at the Inn and had a few drinks. I'm in love with Shor's Stone-- it's such a beautiful little gem nestled away. Not nearly as wretched as Riften.

 

Arissa is such an interesting person. I really do hope she reclaims Oakshore. Seems like a wonderful place.

 

Alright, we might have overstayed. Time to go check up on the poet and his wife.

 

Hmm, it's raining. Bad omen?

 

Bad omen.

 

I'm going to go see if I can act the middleman. Vilja will come with me. She's almost as motherly as the woman worshipped next door.

 

And now I'm about to arrange their wedding! I hope all the best. They’re beautiful souls.

 

**\---Evening Star, 6th, 4E 201---**

This has been a strange few days. Wonderfully, dreamily strange. I hope I'm not cross-eyed, leaning against a stone wall deep underground while an ancient illusion trap sucks my life away moment by moment. These things happen. But so do beautiful days, rainstorms, and true love. Ha!

 

And so Inari and Kjoli are wed! I told them Kjoli that the only thing he should do to return the favor is to come to Riften when it's my turn to walk down the aisle.

 

That reminds me... if this journal is right, I've been travelling Skyrim for about ninety days, mostly with my companions. We've made unshakeable bonds.

 

If I were to look for romance, I'd find it. I'd also possibly find jealousy. Hmm.

 

Whatever Sofia and I had, I think we're different people. Or I'm a different person now. Some people, for better or worse, never grow up.

 

Arissa and I are... partners in crime, but not in love. At least, not the kind of love you slip a gold band around.

 

That leaves Vilja. And Vilja... by Mara. She's so familiar. It's like our souls have crossed before.

 

I don't know if this is the right time for love. But we face death every day. Visitors to this rugged land joke about it, but it's true-- when death is around every corner, sometimes you've got to be direct.

 

In Hammerfell, courtship is much more complicated. Redguards have strange and winding rituals for this sort of thing. To the north, Bretons have their intrigues and arrangements and Orcs... are Orcs.

 

Hmph. Maybe I should wear one of those stupid amulets. I suppose I should embrace my heritage. I didn't think to look for my father's before I left. Marriage was the last thing on my mind. And here I am in the Bee & Barb, Riften, nursing a Cliff Racer and considering it. Not to mention the whole "Dragonborn" business. And politics. Ugh. I know I ordered Talen-Jei's top shelf for more that celebration.

 

Maybe I'm just a sad drunk. I dunno.

 

But damn it! I'm supposed to be celebrating a marriage, and here I am writing in the corner. Time to enjoy ourselves! Let the drink flow and the tables be danced upon! That'll give Kjoli something to write about!

 

Know what? Time we checked out those Dawnguard chumps. To the east!

 

WOAH. WOAAHHHH.

 

So were were walking off our tipsiness outside Riften, all of us buzzed, and Vilja asks me another one of her "be honest with me" questions. We're side by side, through the foggy evening, celebrating a marriage. She asks me "Do you ever regret me staying here with you in Skyrim?" and I say no, not for a second. You mean too much to me. The Cliff Racer yanks a "You're more than a friend" out of me before I can clam up.

 

And she agreed.

 

She says that yes... that's right. Let me think.

 

Vilja often lets things brew in her mind for a while before giving them voice. So I suppose she'll think about this for a while.

 

I'm gonna have to tip Talen-Jei extra next time I'm there. Maybe I'll set up a sign-- "I'm Martyn Arianrhod, and this is my favorite pub in Skyrim!"

 

Pub though. Not tavern. Incidentally, Vilja and I agree- the Bannered Mare and the Winking Skeever are both our favorite taverns. Though their bars aren't nearly as interesting as The Bee & Barb's.

 

Well, the Winking Skeever has Spiced Wine.

 

Looks like Jade would be up for adventuring with us. Don't know if she's really cut out for danger though. Maybe she needs to find out herself!

 

"Mara is the handmaiden of Kyne. Bet you didn't know that!"

 

Actually, I didn't. Huh. Thank you!

 

Just bought a jug of Emberbrand Wine. The good stuff. Just in case we ever have a reason to break open a bottle of something top-shelf... like the defeat of Alduin. Or a wedding.

 

**\---Evening Star, 7th, 4E 201---**

Actually, I never thought of stocking up on drinks for occasions. Ands you know, that reminds me-- it's Evening Star, the month of festivals! I've got to stock up for Baranth Do, Chil'a, the New Life Festival, the Old Life Festival... And Molag Bal's Invocation Day. I should give his mace an offering. Hmm.

 

We all haven't put much thought towards holidays since we started travelling. Now that we have a home and some gold to our names, we might be able to do that for real!

 

I'm not sure if I'm going to celebrate the Hammerfell new year... I could find some Redguards to  party with, but I just don't think it'd be the same.

 

I think the only days I'll put effort towards are the New Life Festival and Molag Bal's Invocation Day. It just seems... disrespectful not to honor it when I am in possession of his Mace.

 

That leaves the much cheerier New Life Festival to plan for! I'll collect wine, presents... Oh man, it's going to be exciting!

 

I'll work on that list in another part of this book.

 

Also, I woke up with my joints all screwed up, my back aching, my stomach feeling weird, and my bones crack whenever I move them. Bonebreak fever for sure. I'm torn between using a potion or crawling over to the Temple of Mara. You know what, I'll do that. We're in the neighborhood.

 

Ahh. Met the oft-talked of Dinya at the temple. Yeah. She's out there. Chucked a matchmaking letter at me and ordered me towards Ivarstead.

 

Ahh, I suppose I'm happy to help the Divines.

 

Oh, right. Dawnguard. I don't know. I was really feeling it when I was drunk last night. Now... eh.

 

I think it's about time we headed home and dropped of the gear anyway. Maybe do some shopping.

 

Damn, it feels good to be rich! Just bought some seriously pricey gear at Balimund's but it barely put a dent in our coffers.

 

You know, I meant to keep moving today but I got roped into a long conversation with a very quick-talking Khajiit woman selling flowers. She was quite something. Not only did I agree to get her some kind of special flower from Whiterun named "Zoro's Cotton" (and was promised a day off sometime next year, as I am now "her minion"), I also dropped something like 400 septims on bloody flowers. Flowers that I have plenty of back home. Oh well. I'll make a garland or something. Maybe Vilja will appreciate them? Heheh.

 

Ivarstead... You know, I've been meaning to visit High Hrothgar for a while now. I'll drop the letter off, head up the mountain, continue on to Whiterun, drop the gear, pick the flower, and head back here to deliver it and investigate the Dawnguard. Perfect!

 

Let's see if that plan survives.

 

We're going to stay one more night in the Bee & Barb. I bought their whole top shelf, just like that. Damn, it's good to have money!

 

Now we'll be prepared for any festivities that come our way.

 

Met an old argonian woman named Wander-Lust. Short one son and full of love for the world.

 

Mothers.

 

What's there to say?

 

I think I saw an Argonian tail hanging through the floorboards upstairs. That's something you don't see every day! Like a fishing lure, almost.

 

I think I'm going to head towards the Jarl before we leave. I want to buy spells from the court wizard... but I also want to see exactly what kind of woman Law-Giver is.

 

**\---Evening Star, 8th, 4E 201---**

Hmph. Overheard her escape plan for jumping off a sinking ship if Riften is attacked by a dragon.

 

Cowardly. But practical. Well. She said something like "It's only right that if Riften were to fall, its leader would be spared". That's not very endearing.

 

And she's a Stormcloak, and under Maven's thumb. Her voice is impressive, but her mind... eh. She's not up to scratch with Balgruuf  or Ravencrone. To put it lightly. I wonder if I met her at the Thalmor's party. Unlikely, considering Maven was there. And she's in charge of a rebel hold. Hah.

 

Time to see if the wizard is any less dense.

 

Well. She's not dense, she’s dispersed. But the friendly kind. I bumped into her walking into her chamber and she rattled off some kind of problem she was having with an experiment-- I made some educated stabs-in-the-dark and apparently I'm a genius that just solved whatever problem she was working on. I just suggested using calipers and the number 9. Heh. Apparently that did it.

 

Ugh. Even the maids are unbearable. Not to mention the Stormcloaks roaming around here.

 

I hope Klimmek and Fastred will be happy. Ivarstead keeps its young blood and the poor girl won't be some Imperial milksops plaything.

 

By Mara, it's been a love-filled past few days hasn't it? I even just found an amulet of Mara in the dirt along the road. I suppose she's looking down at me, along with Kyne and Akatosh and Talos and everyone else, Daedra included.

 

I wonder what Zenithar and Julianos think of me? Or any of the other divines I rarely cross?

 

I wonder if Belethor is ever going to sell that rug on his countertop.

 

You know, I've never been in Jorrvaskr.

 

I've always wanted to become a better smith.

 

Alright, we're not that tired. Wash first.

 

**\---Evening Star, 9th, 4E 201---**

I slept terribly last night. I had dreams of Windhelm, a torn-up body on the ice, an ancient axe and sword, a frozen cliff east of Morthal bearing a Word Wall, a bottle... and the whole time I felt like my strength was being inexorably sapped into the abyss of this Ebony armor. Chilling.

 

So did Vilja, I think. Her eyes were all red and she woke up much later than usual. Poor dear. Nightmares are hard to run from.

 

Saber Cats are so beautiful. Just saw one pounce out of the brindle tundra grass onto a rabbit.

 

**\---Evening Star, 10th, 4E 201---**

We stopped to eat lunch on a crag in the north of Whiterun plain, looking out over the beautiful tundra and the mountains beyond. Vilja was next to me, and we sat quietly enjoying some mead braised bear when she turned to me and thanked me for revealing to her Skyrim's rugged beauty. Said it was a cold and harsh land, and she wasn't sure if she liked it... but now, her eyes are open.

 

She also told me why she didn't sleep. A nightmare. We were in a fort, fighting undead, and a wave of the creatures burst out and surrounded me. They knocked me down, she was out of magicka, and she woke up thinking I was dead...

 

...And then she told me that she loved me.

 

And I said I loved her.

 

The tundra is beautiful, with all the reds and greens and blues and grays. The wind can be biting and it's not as temperate as the Rift, and has fewer trees than Falkreath. But the sky... the mountains... the sun... it's everything in perfect proportion.

 

I agree. I think life would be barren without her. We've been through so much...

 

Maybe it's a little quick. I don't know. Skyrim forges bonds strong and fast, tempered by the heat of battle and the heat of the hearth. Romance among Nords is so much different than the customs in Hammerfell. The culture is direct, strong... it's hard to articulate. You know what I mean.

 

Here's to a good life. Alduin beware.

 

But now I have something to lose.

 

I mean, I already did. But now...

 

I can't become possessive. This is the life we lead. We both understand the hazards. Love is like quicksilver in the hand, after all.

 

The view from Skyborn Altar is incredible, but the smell of the swamp sometimes breezes up from below. I think I had a dream about that earlier, actually. Strange.

 

Found another Standing Stone west of the Shrine of Mehrunes Dagon. We'll rest here for tonight.

 

Ten more days till I take up Molag Bal's mace.

 

**\---Evening Star, 11th, 4E 201---**

 

We found a cave, nestled away in the side of a mountain. Inside is an ancient gate, locked from this side.

 

Hmm. Wonder where the proper entrance is? This seems to be one of the bolt-holes common to the Nordic crypts we've come across. 

 

Speaking of which, just ducked into one such crypt to get out of the cold. Greeted by a dead guy, nearly split in half by an old battleaxe.

 

Apparently this crypt houses the body of an ancient nord Tongue Chieftain. That sounds like a hell of a fight. I bet there's a word wall in here, too.

 

Let's give it a shot. We'll warm up at the brazier here and then go spelunk this place.

 

I've always wondered-- why are the torches and candles and braziers in these tombs burning? I always just assumed they were magic. Maybe they are.

 

Just heard a trap go off down below. Hmm.

 

Definitely taking this Death Lord's helmet. An excellent trophy if there ever was one.

 

It's strange... Almost as I've been here before. I keep recognizing traps and bits of architecture.

 

Got that old Tongue's sword, axe, word, and ring. Good haul.

 

Still can't shake that feeling that I've been here before...

 

Time to go pick up the Ingot & Soul Gem.

 

We're at the skirt of a mammoth boneyard and a pair of poachers-- an Orc and a Bosmer-- are sort of near the middle. We clearly outnumber and out-skill them, and instead of running (thus provoking an attack) from us, they're standing there rattling their sabers and telling us to "back off", "or else".

 

Hah. I have half a mind to just leave.

 

Nope, never mind. Couldn't resist the opportunity to use that complex Dwemer spell I found in a ruin weeks ago. I never had the Magicka to cast it, but one draught later I was able to sick a Dwarven Sphere on the suckers.

 

I honestly don't fully understand the spell-- maybe that's why it's so difficult to cast. I'm not being efficient. Still though, as far as I can tell the construct isn't being pulled out of Oblivion like a daedra or being reanimated like a zombie. So where is it coming from? A bunker somewhere on this plane? A base on Masser? Hmph. Who knows.

 

Sofia has this excellent enchanted knapsack that opens up into its own little plane of Oblivion, which is why she's our Quartermaster. I think she likes having all the loot.

 

I grabbed a pick out of our kit and went to work on a vein of Corundum jutting out of the snow.

 

When I finished, I turned to see Inigo and Vilja having a snowball fight while Arissa and Hoth looked on. Hoth kept telling Vilja to go "over the top" of the embankment she had crafted and "stick some snow in that cat's ears!" Arissa was cheering on whoever was the underdog at the moment and Sofia was standing in the shelter of a boulder, keeping herself warm.

 

I didn't join in, but instead took a seat with Sofia and watched the festivities. It's Evening Star, after all! We should have more fun more often.

 

Funny how we're a bunch of grizzled mercenaries having a snowball fight. Fun is the secret of youth.

 

Got the ingot. I think we'll warm up here and then browse the College.

 

Vilja would like to dine out sometime. Have a romantic evening.

 

Well, we're in Winterhold right now and the Inn here is almost as bad as Dawnstar's. We both enjoy the Winking Skeever and the Bannered Mare an awful lot though, and since the Bannered Mare is so close to home I think it would perfect, since we don't have to bring our equipment or travel so far north just for the evening. And while Lissette is much better than Mikael, I think Minette wouldn't understand that we were looking for privacy.

 

**\---Evening Star, 12th, 4E 201---**

It's funny how skinny we look in normal clothing! With her hood up and her stout Nordic armor, Vilja seems so... tough? Not big, per se, or fat. But sort of larger than life, with all the carvings and leather pleating and such. In her simple green dress and boots, she's so much thinner. Younger looking.

 

The same goes for everyone else. Inigo looks much smaller without the pauldrons of his Akaviri armor, Sofia looks much more willowy, and while Arissa keeps a similar figure in her dress she doesn't have the extra two feet of intensity that scale armor provides. She looks like just another imperial woman who's lived a life of travel, with her hair done in the style of the upper class.

 

Walked into Windhelm and heard some commotion down an alley. Checked it out and there was the viciously mutilated body of a young woman stretched across a snowy tomb. Lots of gawkers. Talked to the guard sorting the mess out-- apparently, this is the third such murder.

 

Strange thing is, as I turned into the alleyway I tensed up on reflex-- not from seeing the corpse, but from half an expectation that my Ebony Armor would suddenly bring me to my knees and sap my strength, as it did in my nightmare. And somehow, I knew the corpse was Susanna's...

 

Windhelm. What problem doesn't this place have?

 

Funny thing was that after I was done asking the people that had gathered for information, I bumped into a young Dunmer woman passing by. I recognized her voice in an instant. But for some reason, I was surprised to see her out of the Hall of the Dead. Why? Why am I remembering things that haven't happened yet? And why does my armor seem so heavy when I do..?

 

**\---Evening Star, 13th, 4E 201---**

Seems like every blacksmith in Skyrim is either in awe of Euroland Gray-Mane or looking to usurp him. Sometimes both.

 

Don't like doing business with Stormcloaks. Every septim I pay is a little more pressure on the Empire.

 

"The White Phial". Huh. Vilja wants to see that found. Nurelion doesn't have much time left.

 

The steps to the Palace of Kings are in such disrepair. It's a shame. Can't Ulfric get someone to fix his steps? Or would that defile them? Hmph.

 

Ahh, Norgrof Oak-Heart. Never change.

 

Sold some enchanted equipment to Ulfric's creepy court wizard. The perpetually bloody skull on his enchanting table really ties the room together.

 

Helgird claims it was an ancient Nordic embalming tool that did the bloody deed. Hmm.

 

Seems like the blood trail leads to Hjerim, this big old abandoned house.

 

Arissa could probably pick the (very impressive) lock, but seeing as how we have the law on our side I think we'll just go and get the key.

 

This house is magnificent. If there were rugs and bookshelves and tables of food and friendly faces it'd be even better. Holds no candle to Elysium Estate, of course!

 

There's some litter lying around in here that doesn't look fresh. And a bloody chest full of warning fliers and the Butcher's journal.

 

Same old crap. "Those fools at the college"... "Old magic"... and creepy mutterings about murdering women for their body parts.

 

Just heard a yelp from downstairs. Sounded like Arissa. On my way.

 

She was swearing, turned away from an open cabinet, hand on her brow shielding her eyes. Inigo was snarling next to her.

 

Peeked in-- there's some kind of altar set up. Dried blood, fresh blood, piles of bones littered everywhere. Embalming tools on a shelf. Sofia was already in there picking around and yammering about an old boyfriend. Hoth was leaning in the corner, expressionless as ever, but grunted "That's just nasty" when Sofia opened up a barrel and found a few yards of intestine covered in Ice Wraith teeth.

 

Vilja looked around my shoulder, saw what was through the and door blanched, ducking away and looking green. Can't blame her. We see a lot of gruesome stuff on our travels but this must take the cake.

 

When we came out, Arissa was at a table in the other room leaning over an amulet she said she'd found nearby. Nobody knows what to make of it, but it definitely doesn't look friendly.

 

Maybe that Calixto guy will have something to say about it. "House of Curiosities", after all. We'll check it out tomorrow. His place is closed.

 

Met Brunwulf Free-Winter. He's the one that rescued that Dunmer girl I met earlier. I've heard good things about him from other people, too. Doesn't hate the mer or beastfolk. Killed a lot of elves in the Great War but dislikes conflict.

 

I wonder how things would be around here if he was on the throne instead of Ulfric?

 

**\---Evening Star, 14th, 4E 201---**

We're at Calixto's shop. Can't help but notice the embalming tools he has on display. And the redness of his eyes. Staying up late? Sickness? Tears? Something in his eyes? Drunk?

 

Hah. A blank book, a dwemer fork, and a flute. I wonder what Calixto would think of my collection of daedric artifacts, dwemer lexicons, and Elder Scrolls?

 

Seems like a nice old man though. Pity about his sister. But even before he spoke about the items on display, I knew their names... and my gut's telling me there's something up with the chest in his loft.

 

Found our way to the Aretino residence. Found the boy hacking away at an effigy and canting out the Black Sacrament. Kid must've been doing this for weeks at least, from what I've heard of it.

 

He took us for assassins when he noticed us and told us to go to Riften and kill "Grelod the Kind", the woman in charge of Honorhall Orphanage. Apparently she doesn't live up to her name.

 

Don't want to screw the place up for Kjoli and Inari if they're still considering adoption. Don't want to screw it up period, really.

 

Also, swiping a contract from the Brotherhood..?

 

Never thought I'd help defend Windhelm from a dragon attack. But here we are.

 

Anyway, the matter of the amulet: Calixto says it's "the Wheelstone", some kind of amulet that was passed down among the court mages of Windhelm.

 

What the everloving Deadlands..?

 

I just felt the strangest kind of fizzling vibration come from my pack, so I opened it up for a look and there next to this journal was a strange, dwemer looking note that addressed me as "Nirnling" and said that "The Master requires your presence on Masser during the next cycle." What.

 

This... My life is strange enough to take this seriously. I hope it had nothing to do with the Dwarven Sphere I summoned earlier from that complicated old dwemer spellbook. Who knows...

 

Alright, going to go inspect Wuunferth. I doubt he's the Butcher though, bloody skull or not. My gut's telling me so.

 

It's not him. All I had to do was describe the amulet and Wuunferth was able to place it as the Necromancer's Amulet, "of legend". Says that now that he knows the killings are connected to some kind of ritual, he can deduct that the next one happens... tonight. We'll be there.

 

We're going to stay the rest of the day at the inn, until it gets dark. Then we'll patrol the city in pairs-- Arissa and Inigo, Hoth and Sofia, Vilja and myself. If a team finds the killer, we'll let out some kind of signal-- Arissa will blow her horn, Sofia will launch few firebolts into the sky, or I'll Shout. Hopefully we'll be able to take this sick bastard alive. Have him answer for his crimes. Mercy is often the crueler option.

 

Just saw Calixto walk by. He's following a girl.

 

Some of us in this party aren't very sneaky, so Arissa and Inigo are going to trail him and holler if he tries anything while the rest of us keep looking.

 

The sneaky types went ahead with serious faces, footsteps muffled by the roaring night wind. Hoth and Sofia walked down a southward alley, Hoth grumbling about similar bounties he'd collected in his youth. "It's always the wizard". Sofia, the most magically inclined in the party, grumbled something back as they turned the corner. 

 

I just hope we can hear any alarms over the wind.

 

Vilja and I are in the Gray Quarter right now. Stone-fist just bumped into me, drunk as anything, and called me a "filthy dark elf lover" and told me to get out of "our city". Bet 100 septims he could deck me in one punch. Me, clad head to toe in Ebony.

 

Just as I was wiping his blood off my gauntlets, we heard Arissa's horn blast over the storm.

 

We raced towards the alley it came from and skidded around the corner just in time to see a hooded figure holding his hand over the mouth of that Altmer stablehand, chanting something that was lost to the wind and about to plunge a twisted iron tool into her back.

 

Just as we were registering the scene an ebony arrow tore into his hand, sending the tool clattering down some stone steps nearby. The figure clutched his bleeding palm and screamed, the elf girl struggled backwards, and Arissa strutted forward and contemptuously kicked the Butcher onto his back, holding one sword to his throat and lifting his cowl with the other. Wonder of wonders, it was Calixto. Just as I trudged up with a Calm spell prepared, Hoth stepped out from under an eave and crushed his head with that antler-club-thing of his.

 

We all looked at him and then exploded into a burst of chatter. Arissa and I were upset that Hoth killed the bastard before we could bring him to trial. Hoth just shrugged and and said that a bounty a bounty. Vilja and Inigo had their jaws set and did not feel sorry at all. Feh. What good's a justice system if murder is everyone's first option? It's not like this in Hammerfell. Generally speaking.

 

**\---Evening Star, 15th, 4E 201---**

Oh well. The steward was just happy to hear it was over and promised to pull favors for us if we ever needed them. Hah. Maybe the people here will remember who caught the Butcher when we're knocking down their gates for the Empire.

 

Time for some celebratory drinks!

 

Wow, just saw an Imperial spy take down two guards and make it out the gate. Usually these are suicide missions. Guess the man was tough.

 

Pity that both sides use these tactics though. Nobody should have to fear their own guards.

 

Before we leave this dump Arissa and I are going to ransack the Butcher's house for valuables/clues/those things he had on display.

 

Had a good time picking through the stuff. Yep, he had all kinds of nasty crap in the loft chest-- a third journal, dozens of bloody tools. Why did he need so many?

 

In any case, the book, the "spoon" and the flute are ours now. Heh.

 

They serve a lot of stews here in Windhelm. Makes sense, given the climate.

 

We're going to go grab the Phial now. After we deliver it, we'll be heading back towards the Rift and hopefully out of Windhelm for the foreseeable future.

 

Wow, it's not snowing. Good omen?

 

Always disconcerting to hear the creaking of a skeleton coming from out of sight.

 

There's a strange trail of ingots running through this place like breadcrumbs. I'm not complaining.

 

Funny story: I picked up a book along the way to the Forsaken Cave called "The  Mirror".

 

In it, a master of the shield and sword (in that order) meets his long-lost brother, who fights exactly as he does, and is slain. A tragedy, like most of the books I end up reading!

 

The thing, though, was that Curamil's reanimated corpse fought with an ebony shield and enchanted sword, much like I do. I'm used to ambushing from the side, staggering with a block or shield bash, then hammering on my opponent with heavy blows while my companions draw their attention elsewhere, or at least flank them while I have their attention. Curamil had five tough Draugr and a cloak of billowing ice; I had my five companions and a Daedric artifact blessed by Meridia.

 

Reflexively, I went for the frontal overwhelming attack, but I was stopped short by the shield and the frost cloak that rent at me when I got too close. After a few exploratory jabs, I nimbly dodged around a pillar and flanked him as Hoth and Vilja pounded down on his shield. A few powerful stabs through the chinks of his armor and Curamil was no more.

 

If you ask me, what the champion in The Mirror lacked was teamwork.

 

Oh no. The Phial is cracked.

 

Nurelion's not going to like this.

 

**\---Evening Star, 16th, 4E 201---**

Strange... on our way back to Windhelm, Inigo said he could hear steam. Out here in the snow! Usually that means trouble, so naturally we decided to investigate. Turns out it was coming from some big dwemer pipes jutting out of the riverbed and leading into a cave.

 

We're gonna check it out.

 

Hmm. Just an unusually warm wolf den, really. We were looking around halfheartedly and eventually Vilja shrugged and said "Probably nothing." Well, she was right. Rather disappointing, really. I saw the pipes and was sure we'd be fighting at least a construct or two.

 

Ha! Passed the skeleton of the dragon we took down on the way back. We should probably move it out of the road, but damn are those things heavy. Not even a force shout can really get them to budge.

 

That Stormcloak smith War-Anvil is discouraging his apprentice from learning to forge "exotic" ores like Orichelcum because, to put it short, they're "non-Nordic". Hmph. A truly great smith should not only be the master of all kinds ores but also be always willing to expand their experience.

 

REALLY not looking forward to breaking the news to Nurelion. I can see him in the other room sitting by the fire with a fur over him and tea in his hand.

 

The poor mer took it rather well, all things considering. But damn, I would hate to be in his shoes right now.

 

Still, no excuse for "rewarding" our party five measly septims. That's not even a septim for each of us, the crotchety old loon.

 

Fortunately his apprentice was much more understanding. 505 gold it is.

 

Alright, back to the Rift with us. Finally.

 

Just about to charter a carriage when I remembered-- we should visit Heneri. It's the least we can do.

 

Nevermind. Bad idea.

 

Just had some truly incredible rabbit stew at the Bee & Barb. Not only that, but Keerava let me take a look at the recipe, as thanks for "services rendered". Guess Talen-Jei told her about the amethysts.

 

Heh. Wylandriah rewarded my "uncanny foresight" by shoving an armful of high-end scrolls onto me and skipping away into her lab.

 

Some of these seem really nasty. I'm not sure what "Fingers of the Mountain" does but I can hazard a guess at "Conjure Nether Lich".

 

**\---Evening Star, 17th, 4E 201---**

Apparently Yushari didn't like the Whiterun cotton I picked. Apparently my wages are being slashed in half now-- whatever half of zero is.

 

Calcelmo... huh. Mara requires someone to go give ole Calcelmo a hand in Markarth. Didn't see that coming, really.

 

I haven't been to the Reach in ages. Can't say I miss the sheer cliffs, Forsworn, Thalmor, and unfriendly locals. It must be the stone beds everyone sleeps on. Honestly, the Reach would be much more livable if everyone just used a damn mattress.

 

Gonna go check out Honorhall. We'll see.

 

"Those who shirk their duties get an extra beating! Do I make myself clear?"

 

"Yes, Grelod".

 

Sheesh. And I haven't even gotten through the door all the way.

 

"None of you riff-raff is getting adopted, ever!"

 

"Nobody needs you, nobody wants you!"

 

Damn!

 

Ah...

 

Marched right in and introduced her gut to my ebony-clad knee. Didn't mean to kill her, just knock her down and chew her out, but...

 

Well, now all the kids are cheering "we love you, Dark Brotherhood!" and "Aventus did it!"

 

Ugh... there's no room for a gentle touch fighting draugr and trolls. Guess I forgot that.

 

"Kill one person and you can solve so many problems. I wonder at the possibilities."

 

Well, the orphans seem happy at least. So there's that.

 

My companions are in a weird mixture of nonplussed and accepting. Grelod was obviously terrible, so they're not really moralizing. Which is good, I suppose. She also had some racist literature on her body, which is pretty much the cherry on top.

 

I just hope the Dark Brotherhood doesn't try to put me down for taking their contract. Though I'd be surprised if they even knew or cared in the first place, seeing as how Aventus had been performing the Sacrament long enough for word of it to travel to Falkreath. Hmm. We'll see.

 

Wait... that means we're going to have to go back to Windhelm to give Aventus the news. Damn it!

 

Aww, the kid payed me with a carved silver plate. Looks like an heirloom. I can't take that. He'll understand its true value later. I'm just going to slip it under a dresser or something.

 

…Or I should keep it as a trophy of that one time I killed Grelod the Kind for a disgruntled orphan…

 

Yeah. That sounds pretty good to me.

 

**\---Evening Star, 18th, 4E 201---**

Wow. I'm Thane of Winterhold now. Didn't expect that to happen today.

 

Alright. Going to stay the night in Winterhold and then escape the cold. We'll head home, sort the gear, bathe, put on real clothes, read by the fire, improve our equipment, have a romantic dinner...

 

Maybe even finally visit Rorikstead. Yeah, it'll be nice. No more cruel snow or Stormcloaks to sour the mood.

 

Gods. Woke with the smell of the swamp in my nose and a slinky assassin telling me to choose one of three people to murder. One's guilty. 

 

I'm no fool. Shell games are always rigged.

 

Great. Now I'm here in the middle of the swamp, alone, and all my gear is back in Winterhold. Along with some very worried companions, no doubt.

 

Just me and a bloody woodcutter's axe.

 

Spoke to the lynx as little as possible. Hard to stay stoic when you're in your bedclothes, though.

 

Still.

 

To Winterhold.

 

Alright. I have magic. Nobody can take that from me. I think I'll beeline for Winterhold. Morthal doesn't have a stable and neither does Dawnstar. Actually, I could head to Solitude rather than trekking all the way across the north on foot in my sleeping clothes with a nothing but a bloody hatchet for company.

 

Off I go. Hope my companions are staying calm.

 

Took down a troll with just this axe. It's strange not being able to stab at all with it. And the blade is small. Good weight to it though.

 

Still, it's just a tool. Not a real weapon. Onwards.

 

So glad I can walk on water. The channel beneath Solitude was no obstacle.

 

Walking on water barefoot feels weird as hell, though.

 

Wow. Hardly a day later and Constance Michele is already sending adoption letters all over Skyrim. She really does seem like a beautiful spirit. Maybe I did right by those kids. Just wish it wasn't with murder. Life is precious but people see it go to waste every day. Not that I'm above it all, dealing death like I do.

 

I wonder how many skalds moralize like I do.

 

The carriage ride into Winterhold was nice in the temperate holds and terrible in the cold ones. The carriage driver, Thaer, let me borrow a fur, which helped. That and my nord blood helped stave off the cold. Kjoli said something poetic about our people's relationship with frost, but I can't remember how it goes and wouldn't want to defile it with an imperfect recantation here. But it was good.

 

Thaer didn't ask about the axe but I'm sure I saw him eye it once or twice.

 

Pulled into Winterhold around 9:00 and hurried into the Frozen Hearth. There was a predictable ruckus; from what I could tell, rather than using his excellent tracking abilities honed by years of hunting dangerous men, mer, and beasts, just relaxed and said "He'll be back". Sofia was similarly confident and neurotic all at the same time.

 

Arissa just gave a relieved huff and asked where I had gone off to. Inigo was in a similar state of relieved upsetness and told me next time to summon him with his spell, or else what was it good for?

 

Vilja was suitably worried and rushed me with a hug, which I returned, letting the bloody axe clatter to the ground. Everyone looked at it, and I looked at everyone. I don't know. We've seen a lot of bloody weapons. But that axe... there's something off about it.

 

In any case, I'm back now and everyone's asking where I've been. Told them I was out for a stroll, more or less. Despite some pointed questions from Arissa, who wasn't buying my cover story ("You went out into the Winterhold chill barefoot, unarmed, and in your sleeping clothes?") I was able to batter away the all the questions and get my gear back on and ready for departure.

 

Put the bloodied hatchet up on a rack in the basement. Haven't cleaned it. Don't think I will.

 

**\---Evening Star, 19th, 4E 201---**

Just as Vilja and I were going out to dine at the Bannered Mare, a thunderstorm rolled in.

 

This might have dampened the mood for others, but I was able to Shout the clouds away and the rest of the evening was clear and beautiful. Masser and Secundas shone through the clouds like paper lanterns.

 

Masser…

 

No. I'm relaxing tonight with my closest companion. None of that.

 

It was an excellent night!

 

Vilja and I had some Blackbriar Reserve with Ale Braised Saber Cat and some fresh bread. Made companionable small talk. We danced a when Mikael punched out Mogo's Mead and Vilja took the floor after that with a beautiful lute piece which earned her some coin from the audience. Meanwhile I was working on a bottle of Alto Wine and enjoying her performance, and after that we made our way back home. I must admit I stumbled a few times from the drink, but more often than not Vilja caught my arm with a giggle and kept me on my feet. We were laughing on the way home, but I'm not sure what about... I think it was just the joy of being in each other's company.

 

Before we went inside we heard the livestock yammering though- drunk and armed only with a dagger I vaulted over the stone wall and ran right into a Saber Cat. Guess he was mad that we ate one of his buddies earlier. Got a nasty slash across my arm before jamming my dagger in his eye. Healed the arm with some restoration magic.

 

Well... for a given definition of "healed". The arm feels fine right now but the scars are definitely not going to heal. I guess I should've just gone inside and gotten a potion or asked Vilja to heal me, but I reacted in the moment and now here I am.

 

Tch. Tore my sleeve, too. Plus the blood. Good thing I have spares.

 

That was an exciting end to an otherwise enjoyable evening!

 

Tomorrow, the Mace. I'll do that alone.

 

Ouch. Caught my foot on a corner on the way to bed and slammed my face into a chair. Used a health potion for that one.

 

Can't I catch a break? I'm just trying to enjoy an evening for once!

 

**\---Evening Star, 20th, 4E 201---**

Wow, the Mace is unusually powerful today.

 

I crushed a Sabercat’s ribs in one blow and just knocked a vampire's head clean off.

 

Snapped a fleeing necromancer in half as she ran, begging for mercy. Molag Bal approves, I think.

 

Ahh, just walked past a trio of Vigilants eating rations on the side of the road. If only those idiots knew..! I mean, can't they recognize the THREE daedric artifacts I'm carrying around with me right now?

 

Damn, some of these bandit chiefs are tough. I just blasted one off a ledge with Unrelenting Force and could hardly believe my eyes when he stood up out of the river and beat his shield at me.

 

Great. A dragon. I'll just wait for it to pass.

 

Had an incredible duel with the bandit chief. He's a sword and boarder, like me. I'm out of my element with this mace, though. I think I really unnerved him what with the way I slaughtered his clan and knocked him into the river with a shout and despite his "true nord" posturing he split and tried to run after a good couple minutes of fighting.

 

I would have let him go, but the Mace demands blood... and I can't in good conscious let a Chief get away. They'd just start a new clan, like rodents.

 

I think I really freaked him out though when I watched him try to swim away for a goodly while, then lightly step out on top of the water as he desperately tried to fight the current in his heavy armor. Finally got his footing on a shallow rock just in time for me to stroll up and smash his head underwater a few times with the Mace.

 

Took his shield and left the body on the shore.

 

Passed the Vigilants on the way home and they gave me a round of applause as I passed. I guess they had been watching the fight from atop the hill.

 

Still didn't even know I was paying my respects to a Daedric Prince.

 

Vilja says she much prefers travelling with companions, and I agree, but still… Skyrim is so much more raw alone. Every fight is filled with more adrenaline. Everything is fresh. It's peaceful, too. I rather like it.

 

Ate a small meal and took a nap when I got home. It's so nice to be able to relax.

 

What do you know... On my way back I noticed a courier hanging in front of the house. Delivered a letter to me and took off. I only just broke the seal and took a look now, as I'm organizing the library.

 

Apparently someone in Windhelm named Quintus Navale says he may be able to repair the Phial.

 

Huh. Must be Nurelion’s apprentice. He was an Imperial, right?

 

Hate to return to that gloomy place, but it's definitely the right thing to do. Not to mention how curious I am.

 

I'm going out tonight again. Really eager to roam alone. And my companions want to relax, so it's a win-win. I don't think we should be cooped up together all the time.

 

Just hope they understand. I'm being sort of quiet.

 

There are three figures in the distance. Lightning lit up the plain just quick enough to be sure. Gonna check them out.

 

Bandits. No idea how many I just slew. It's dark as pitch, except for the fires burning and the bolts of lightning up close or afar.

 

I'm learning to twist and turn with the blows, though. Move with the armor. I'm getting hit more often than usual with no companions to spread out the battle with.

 

**\---Evening Star, 21st, 4E 201---**

So glad our roof doesn't leak.

 

**\---Evening Star, 22nd, 4E 201---**

Vilja is very happy with her newly enchanted gauntlets!

 

Just bumped into Lydia in Dragonsreach! Apparently she's been keeping busy acting as a sort of coordinator for strike teams of hold guards, cleaning out bandits and the like and acting as Irileth sword arm when the she's otherwise occupied. Sounds to me like she's happy but looking to explore Skyrim proper, not just keeping the boundaries of the hold safe.

 

Still though, she's been preparing for any eventuality in the war looming overhead. We talked strategy for a while and I'm impressed with her acumen.

 

Overheard Irileth chewing out Balgruuf for sneaking out for a drink at the Bannered Mare. Those two.

 

Balgruuf is a good man and a good Jarl. I hope the future sees him safe.

 

I have all these flawless gems I need to sell, but nobody's buying...

 

Really was good to see all our friends in Dragonsreach. I keep forgetting how much I like the people of this hold.

 

Amren has his sword. Hopefully he can stop worrying about that and concentrate on his wife.

 

I had a chat with Idolaf at the edge of the market while we were stocking up on provisions. He knows where Thorald is... Northwatch Keep. In Thalmor custody.

 

This sounds like a job for six heavily armed and armor Thalmor-slaying heroes, doesn't it?

 

But if that's true, the man's been up there for... months. I wonder if his mind is intact. Or if he didn't expire under interrogation. It's worth a look, either for rescue... or vengeance.

 

Alright. We're going to spring Thorald, Stormcloak or not. The elves are the real enemy here. He'll be home with his family in time for the New Life Festival!

 

It's harsh this far north. We're camped in the shelter of a collapsed tower for the night. The wind is raging in from the Sea of Ghosts and I can hear dragons roaring in the distance.

 

We found a dead daedra in here, its hide filled with Glass arrows. It must've crawled in here to die. Smells weird to me, but to Inigo its stench was overpowering. Hoth and I dragged it outside the shelter and I disintegrated the body with a spell.

 

**\---Evening Star, 23rd, 4E 201---**

I woke up in the night to see a fur-clad foot pad by my head. Everyone else was still asleep-- Hoth, a mountain on his side, Inigo curled up, Vilja under some warm furs, Arissa propped up against a stone with her bow in her lap, Sofia out away from the rest. And wouldn't you know it: Bandits, four of them, probably looking to pick the camp while we slept.

 

As soon as they stood close enough together (admiring Inigo's sword and wondering how to steal it) I sat up, gathered my breath, and let loose a three worded shout. That woke everyone up! The bandits were put down rather quickly after that. Never underestimate a Khajiit’s claws.

 

We cooked some venison stew from our provisions-- excellent stuff-- and continued towards the fort.

 

Hah. Thalmor.

 

A lot of the guards out here were wearing Glass armor. Pretty good stuff. Sofia looted a set for herself that fit pretty well and I grabbed another for the armory back home.

 

Broke all the prisoners out. I don't know why they're in here and I don't care. Nobody deserves Thalmor "custody".

 

Ahh, mages. They're all the same. Deadly standing up, weak as a newborn fawn on the floor. I'm getting good at moving people around with my shield. Sometimes that direction is downwards!

 

He's in pretty bad shape. But he didn't crack. Good. Gonna find him some armor and a weapon then blow this joint.

 

Actually, I think we'll purge this place for the glory of Talos. Much better.

 

"I thank you again, friend. You've given me my life back". Well, you're off to join the Stormcloaks. I might take it back during the war.

 

I've always wondered what that moss is that grows in stone buildings and caves? Doesn't seem to mind the cold at all.

 

Back to Solitude to catch a wagon home. I'll probably buy some gifts in town!

 

After that we've got to resolve the Gray-Mane situation. And then... the most daunting quest yet-- preparing for the Festivals! Cooking! Shopping! Bathing in the springs! Books! Giving gifts! It'll be great.

 

WE SHOULD INVITE AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE! Yes. That would be fantastic!

 

Not long to do it though. It's the 23rd now, and it falls on the 25th...

 

Off we go!

 

Hmm. It's too late. The shops are closed. Oh well.

 

We'll stay at the Winking Skeever tonight, wake up early, then the carriage to Whiterun. We'll see who we can invite. Lydia for sure. Who else...? I bet that girl we met at the Sanctuary would be fun to enjoy a holiday with!

 

We'll have to make an appearance at Dragonsreach, of course.

 

Oh, wait a second! It's celebrated on the 1st of Morningstar in Skyrim! The 25th is a Wayrest tradition that my village followed!

 

Huh. That gives us much more time. Great!

 

That would also explain why it doesn't look so festive around here. I figured what with the Bard's College, Solitude would be in full swing.

 

Just got roped into helping a noble looking Nord (the clothes, not the personality) and a no-nonsense Altmer woman "bodyguard" a woman somewhere in the Reach. Alright. But not until after the Festival.

 

**\---Evening Star, 24th, 4E 201---**

I think seeing Vilja was a great early Festival present for Minette.

 

Vilja pulled me into a closet and told me that she'd need five wolf pelts to fulfill an old Solstheim romance tradition. Heheh. Sounds fine to me!

 

This morning I was eating a few apples and talking to a Khajiit caravaneer about our home lands. We're both from hotter lands outside this province-- said he was from Corinthe, believe it or not. I've always wanted to visit that city; told me it was beautiful from what he remembered growing up there as an orphan. Hah. City of Khajiit. That must be a sight.

 

Evette San is such a wonderful woman. Bought her whole display of Spiced Wine today. My collection of rare wines, meads, and ales continues to grow!

 

God, that town crier must have lungs like a dragon.

 

Jawanan is from Hammerfell, new to Skyrim. Struggled to find the right word for snow! It warms my heart like a dune breeze to see other people from back home making new lives here in Skyrim.

 

Home. Back home.

 

Skyrim is my home now. I don't know when I'll go back to Hammerfell. Maybe one day.

 

Alright. I think I know what we'll do:

 

On the eve of the Festival, we'll have a party to commemorate the new year! Guests optional, we'll see.

 

On the morning of the Festival, we'll give gifts, eat breakfast, relax, head out on the town, then celebrate at Dragonsreach.

 

It occurs to me that I'm not even sure if the Jarl is celebrating. Well, if he isn't, we'll show up anyway with some good cheer! Balgruuf deserves to enjoy himself. Maybe we'll kidnap him and go have a few rounds at the Bannered Mare.

 

Just remembered that I can purchase property here in Solitude. That'd be something!

 

This city is full of beauty. The weather, the architecture, the people...

 

I was just walking along admiring the trees when I heard Inigo spit "Dragon"! I turned around just in time to see it plunge out of the sky and land in the road behind us, knocking Sofia off her feet.

 

We killed that thing easily, and afterwards I absorbed its soul like I usually do... right in front of some astounded-looking Thalmor. Killed them next.

 

Found a sacked caravan. The horse was filled with arrows made of chaurus chitin. I'll bet my boots they're poisoned.

 

Brigands or vampires or forsworn didn't do this. It's falmer. Much worse.

 

We might have to investigate this. Whiterun needs the commerce and Solitude needs the road open to supply the Imperial garrison. Not to mention that innocent merchants shouldn't be dying like this…

 

Saw a Vigilant on the bank of the river yelling for help. Rushed to help her and... it was a single mudcrab. Just one.

 

…These people DO know that Daedra are incredibly dangerous? They don't think they can just ask them nicely to leave Nirn, I hope.

 

Pfft. They're such jokes. Even their "Hall" got burnt down by vampires.

 

Little tip: don't back up against a spiked barrier when your opponent has a shield and can just toss you into the thorns.

 

Ahh, Rorikstead is gorgeous… The wide open plain, the craggy rocks, the quaint houses and farms, the wonderful breeze and sound of tundra grass waving... Can't believe I've never visited before.

 

**\---Evening Star, 25th, 4E 201---**

Hmph. Finally ran into a Khajiit preaching for the Thalmor. Wondered when that would happen.

 

Paid for Erik to go get himself fitted for armor in Whiterun to the tune of 431 septims. Don't regret it one bit. If you're going to be an adventurer, you're going to need the right protection.

 

I also gifted him a fine ebony scimitar we found earlier and he nearly collapsed. And after that, I proved to him I was the Dragonborn. Lad nearly had a fit! Ha!

 

I wonder how much older I am. Probably not that many in years, but in experience perhaps decades.

 

That blade will serve Erik well. I started out with a scimitar in my hands, and told him so. Though nowadays I've been using arming swords more often.

 

I just hope that he carries himself well. I can think of a lot of belligerent types that would just stick a knife in his ribs and take the sword after a night of drinking. That's up to him, though. The foolish die young.

 

I just learned something interesting: Giants are considered citizens of Whiterun Hold. The more you know.

 

**\---Evening Star, 26th, 4E 201---**

 

Thorold can't come home, unfortunately. He doesn't want to bring the Thalmor down on his family. That's too bad… His mother was happy to hear he's safe, though. Or alive, at least. I don't know how safe anyone can be these days.

 

Hoth is a lot craftier than he lets on… something tells me the "pelt-covered, hard-drinking nord barbarian" image is useful camouflage.

 

I just harvested the beehive and milked Amelie. Poor girl really needed it.

 

I mean to do more farming, one day…

 

We have a guest house! I always forget.

 

**\---Evening Star, 27th, 4E 201---**

Delivered the Fire Salts to Balimund. Merry Festival!

 

Bread is lightweight, filling, common, and cheap. But it's so BORING!

 

Arissa is very impatient.

 

**\---Evening Star, 28th, 4E 201---**

Hoth and I went out to buy ingredients for the dinner later. I can't carry everything myself, can I?

 

I was browsing the meat at Anoriath’s stall and was about to make a purchase when Hoth loomed up behind me and started to point out things about the cuts that even a Breton chef wouldn't notice. I asked him just how much he knows about cooking-- all he said was "plenty".

 

Hidden depths.

 

Doesn't Nazeem know I'm a Thane?

**  
** **\---Evening Star, 31th, 4E 201---**

The evening has been wonderful so far. No large party, no ruckus, as is befitting the Old Life Festival. We've all been taking a well-deserved rest. Vilja, Hoth and I have been cooking for HOURS. The theme tonight is Dragon: Everyone's eating dragon in some form tonight to kick off the new year. Bite me, Alduin!

 

Vilja and I have been doing most of the cooking-- I'm setting the table and working on the steaks, soups, and stews; Vilja is helping out with the latter and has been going around taking orders. She is an experienced barmaid, after all!

 

Hoth has been looming over his edge of the kitchen and occasionally orders one of us to bring him some bizarre ingredient or another from the spice rack. I don't know what he's doing with all that moon sugar but it smells incredible.

 

The table is set! Time to collect everyone. That usually takes an age and a half. 

 

The main course:

\- Dragon Steaks (6)

\- Baked Potatoes (6)

\- Butter Bowl (1)

\- Boiled Carrots (5)

\- Grilled Leeks (3)

\- Sweet Rolls (4)

 

Side dishes (by order):

\- High King's Stew (Martyn)

\- Mushroom Stew (Arissa)

\- Hot Honey Horker (Vilja)

\- Spider Soup (Inigo)

\- Flaming Dragon (Sofia)

\- Marinated Mammoth in Elsweyr Sauce (Hoth)

 

Drinks:

\- Emberbrand Wine (Martyn)

\- Black Briar Reserve (Arissa)

\- San's Spiced Wine (Vilja)

\- Ten Dragons Tea (Inigo)

\- Velvet LeChance (Sofia)

\- Nord Mead (Hoth)

 

Yep, just regular old Nord Mead. You'd think Hoth would want some kind of ancient Nordic gargle blaster, but apparently not.

 

After the meal we toasted the new year and went to bed. But not before I got a warm hug and a delicate kiss from my beloved Vilja.


	6. Morning Star

**\---Morning Star, 1st, 4E 202---**

Morning Star, 1st, 4E 202!!!

 

Not just another year. The year the war ends, the year Alduin is defeated! My first new year in Skyrim! I can't imagine what the future holds.

 

We spent the morning nursing hangovers, soaking in the spring, drinking tea, rummaging through the pantry, and most importantly, giving gifts!

 

I gave Arissa some unusual gems we've found. She was intrigued, to say the least. We should get them appraised. (She's called dibs on any more we find).

 

I enchanted Inigo's armor for him. He likes it!

 

Vilja I got a beautiful gold necklace inlaid with an enchanted ruby that heals friends around her in a battle. (That one earned me a hug!)

 

Sofia got a Potion of Glibness I picked up from a caravan. It's pretty powerful stuff. Her mind is reeling with the possibilities… Dibella forgive me.

 

I wasn't sure what to get Hoth (as he is officially under my employ, unlike the rest of the party). I ended up giving him a scrimshawed tooth of the very first dragon I killed. He accepted it though, so I think we're good.

 

Other gifts were given, those were just mine.

 

Off to Dragonsreach!

 

Saw Lydia and Balgruuf and Ireleth and Farengar and Caius and Proventus and everyone else. Since it was the day of, not the night before, most people were in their homes but I could definitely see evidence of festivities through the city. Inigo said the dog breath smell was all over the place so I think it's reasonable to assume that the Companions took the night out on the town. Hah! That must've been a sight to see. Not that I regret staying home and enjoying the meal we did.

 

Balgruuf wished us good fortune for the new year, but I think we all know that it's only going to get worse before it gets better. I can only imagine what the Festival was like in nightmare-inflicted Dawnstar, hoary Windhelm, grim Morthal, or anywhere else, really. I'd imagine Falkreath and Solitude and Riften saw some good cheer, though. Well, maybe not Riften. And Solitude is still recovering from Torygg’s death… And good cheer in Markarth is like finding a feather bed in a dwemer ruin. Falkreath, then? I’d imagine their graveyard got some visitors.

 

I'm sure it wasn't always like this though. This time next year, things will be better. I hope.

 

Something has to be done about these dragons.

 

Just met a Khajiit guard who gave me some pointers on sneaking in heavy armor. Thank you!

 

**\---Morning Star, 2nd, 4E 202---**

Know what? Screw it. We're marching back home, grabbing the Elder Scroll, and ripping open that Time Wound. Alduin is about to get what's coming to him.

 

Son of a bitch escaped. Typical. (Note: I’m not calling Akatosh a bitch. It’s an expression).

 

Alduin is no stranger to titanic boasts but Sofia really gave that worm a run for his money!

 

Hoth knows Paarthurnax. Why am I not surprised?

 

I think I should let the Blades know what just happened here.

 

**\---Morning Star, 3rd, 4E 202---**

Paarthurnax says that we need to capture a dragon, convince it to leave Alduin's cause. Apparently, Dragonsreach is the best place to do this.

 

Dragonsreach.

 

Jarl Balgruuf is a good man and dare I say a true Nord. I think he'll understand the gravity of the situation... but I'm not sure how happy everyone will be with a dragon quartered in the Cloud District. Proventus will probably have a heart attack.

 

Well, off we go. It's cold on top of this mountain.

 

Vilja is really worried about our prospects of trapping a dragon alive. Deadly doesn't even begin to cover it.

 

I hope nothing happens to any of us. Least of all her...

 

I don't quite feel like recounting the fight between Alduin and I right here. But during the battle I was filled with the spirit of Kyne and the roaring of my ancestors filled my ears. Dragonfire didn't touch me and my blade struck true through the chinks in the World Eater's armor.

 

That sounds grandiose.

 

It would not have been possible without my companions, though-- Noble Arissa, whose twin blades sing with the wind-- Clever Inigo, quick with wit and bow-- Stout Vilja, pure of heart and strong of arm-- Impish Sofia, casting ice and insults while slaying men with the sword of the Wolf Queen-- and Stoic Hoth, gruff of manner and supernaturally strong, a man tested by the gods and of infinite reputation.

 

They make my quest possible. Without each of them, I would have died thrice over. They deserve their own songs of praise.

 

Word of Power, Blades, Jarl. Off we go.

 

Not going to lie... the swamps of Hjaalmarch may be desolate and rank by day,  but they are nothing short of terrifying at night.

 

A black shadow has been flitting across my vision as we travel. Hmm.

 

I'm glad I can walk on water, but sometimes I wonder if something will reach out and pull me under, like that dunmer girl in Windhelm talked about... 

 

This hold is one of the only ones I've met draugr above ground.

 

Met the Swamp Knight again. Good to see a friendly face out here.

 

Hmm... another claw puzzle?

 

Galdur amulets, huh...

 

One more for the collection.

 

I've been studying Dovahzul in my free time at home and when I stay at high Hrothgar to meditate upon my Words.

 

I believe the wall here reads:

 

Here lies [the] beautiful Khajiit Anurassa

Whose warmth cannot be extinguished

Even by cold death.

 

Beautiful. I didn't know the ancient nords built tombs for other races. Or even had such high opinions of them..!

 

**\---Morning Star, 4th, 4E 202---**

The people of Karthwasten are not very talkative.

 

Lot of Nirnroot in the Reach.

 

Now, I'm right handed. But I've always cast neater spells using my left hand. Go figure.

 

I don't know if I've put it down in here before or not, but Hoth knows Delphine too.

 

Why? How? Will I ever know the extent of his connections?

 

Ahh, the prophecy wall. We meet again.

 

Looks like Delphine got a cleaner up here since the last time I've visited. She's a real interesting sort. Apparently was married to the torturer at Helgen.

 

Huh. Saw that man die.

 

Strange world we live in.

 

**\---Morning Star, 5th, 4E 202---**

I should review my list of Blades candidates at some point. Imagine us swooping out of the Reach just as the war really breaks and vanguarding for the Empire. Glorious. And we'd take the fight to the Thalmor after that, that's for damn sure.

 

Sometimes I almost wish I let Potema be resurrected. Get the royal blood back on the throne. ALMOST.

 

Delphine and Esbern really wanted Paarthurnax dead. I had to do some serious speechcraft to convince them otherwise.

 

Strength is all well and good but charisma is what writes history. Tiber Septim had both.

 

Ogmund. Great man. One day I hope I can embrace that great nordic tradition.

 

Of course I have eyes only for Vilja, but Hroki... I doubt there's a more beautiful young woman in the Reach.

 

That girl, Mirai...

 

Something different about her. Hmm.

 

Calcelmo and Faleen? Strange... but stranger things have happened.

 

Hard to believe this city is sacred to Dibella.

 

**\---Morning Star, 6th, 4E 202---**

I have a lead on a Daedric artifact. I'm going to do this one alone. Team is staying at the Inn. I'm being quiet as usual, but they know I've got my reasons. Might be happier to kick their boots off if this was Riften or Solitude, but no… it's Markarth.

 

Well, could be worse. Could be Dawnstar or Windhelm!

 

Found the girl's journal out here at a camp. Shouldn't leave her things lying around. This chest is full of nearly nine hundred septims and plenty of supplies with nary a lock. The Reach is by no means a safe place to leave things lying around.

 

I walked out of the tent and hear a large "WHUMPH" to my left. I casually looked over through the dusk and saw nothing out of the ordinary, just a large rock with a juniper straggling over it-- then it moved, and I realized it was actually a stately purple dragon.

 

Well, I looked at it and it looked at me. I walked-- carefully-- up and we stared at each other for a second before it went back to sniffing the air and I walked away with a forced calm.

 

Huh. Strange. Guess Inigo's right-- not every dragon is a rampaging killer. Or this one was just full. Who knows.

 

**\---Morning Star, 7th, 4E 202---**

This ritual. Sickening.

 

Lisbet, the trader. Killed her husband.

 

Banning, the houndmaster.

 

Hogni Red-Arm. I doubt it's beef he's selling.

 

Slyphiron. Whoever she is. Voice much too soft.

 

Sanyon. Some elf.

 

Nimphaneth. Same.

 

Lastly, Eola. At the heart of it all.

 

Forgive me Arkay. And forgive me Namira, after that. I don't know if I can suffer these people to live.

 

People is a strong word for them. Beasts, maybe.

 

They eat mostly adventurers, Forsworn, Stormcloaks.

 

Mingle with your coven. Hah.

 

Will I slay them or not? Their lives are in my hands. I have the Artifact. The are worthless to me now.

 

Am I within my right to pass judgement?

 

"Bloodiest beef in the Reach..."

 

Hmph. We'll see.

 

They live. For now.

 

Maybe not Red-arm though. He might "disappear".

 

Wood Elves eat people all the time. Green Pact. At least the Valenwood ones do.

 

God damn, though. Who else is in with Daedra cults? Calcelmo with the Woodland Man? Delphine with Mehrunes Dagon? Damn. Who can you trust? Hah. Well, I deal with all of them. So there's that.

 

Eola... may follow me if I asked. She could be a Blade. Not that I would extend the offer to her creepy ass.

 

Gave Hogni's stock a good hard look. Deer, dog, horse, rabbit, salmon, horker. No beef though. Or “beef”.

 

I used to think Lisbet had such a lovely face. Now I just see it stained with human blood and bile. Does her partner know, I wonder?

 

BY TALOS! A guard just said "Yes Dovahkiin? How may I help you?"

 

Finally! People know who I am! The glory is here!

 

Guess who just bought a dog? Me!

 

Trained war dog. Banning's.

 

Hmph.

 

Good dog though. Vigilance. He'll be nice to have at home or on the road.

 

He wants me to deliver "spiced beef" to the Jarl's dogs. "Their favorite".

 

I didn't see any beef on Hogni's cart and I doubt a Namira worshiper would raise his war dogs on mere "beef"...

 

Tamriel is full of those that prey on thinking men and mer and beast. I suppose I should get used to that reality. I might end up in their number. I suppose I already have.

 

I kill so many I lose count. What's eating their corpse, then?

 

Arkay damn me. I shouldn't rationalize this. It's wrong. End of story. Sometimes you have to stick to your beliefs.

 

I'll always pick survival first, though.

 

Not cowardice. Commitment to this world, rather.

 

**\---Morning Star, 8th, 4E 202---**

Just had a strange moment of vertigo upon entering the Estate.

 

Vigilance might be a bit noisy, but it's good to have a guard dog. No more losing livestock to Sabercats, hopefully.

 

Vilja loves the dog, but Sofia... not so much.

 

Balgruuf would love to help... as soon as he's sure Ulfric or Tullius won't take advantage of the situation. He thinks we can hash it out at a truce conference at High Hrothgar.

 

We'll see. I might end up declaring my allegiance.

 

**\---Morning Star, 9th, 4E 202---**

Alright. Alduin first. If I can have a truce called and then defeat the World Eater, not only is that good for both sides, it'll make me a truly legendary hero that united both sides of the war against an ancient evil.

 

That'll give me plenty of credibility. I'll be the epitome of a "True Nord". And if I throw my hat in with the Legion after that, I might change a few rebel minds..!

 

Off we go. Better to get it over with. Can't stand waiting around.

 

**\---Morning Star, 11th, 4E 202---**

Stopped in the New Gnisis Cornerclub for water.

 

Never really explored the Gray Quarter. Not gonna lie. It's pretty bad. Ulfric hasn't been down this way, apparently. Unsurprising.

 

Here we are. I'm at the head of the table waiting for the meeting to start. My companions are behind me like Tullius and Ulfric’s bodyguards are behind them. Everyone is leering at everyone else.

 

Its was subtle, but I could tell that Elenwen nearly shat a brick when she saw me. Good. She knows she's next.

 

I can only imagine the headache my behavior causes the Empire. Oh well.

 

Let's see... Rikke, Elisif, Balgruuf, Elenwen (I know who you are! You'll regret joining the Blades! I own Tullius!), Esbern, Delphine, Ulfric, Gunmar...

 

I saw Hoth and Rikke catching up outside the council room earlier. And I see Elisif very pointedly ignoring him right now.

 

Arissa is like another woman right now. She's usually imperious, true, but there's that easygoing life of travel underneath it all. Right now the air of authority around her is nearly dense enough to swim through-- if I didn't know better, I'd say she was the Jarl of Solitude, not the meek young woman beside her.

 

Inigo and Vilja are standing together in a corner and whispering quietly. I can occasionally hear Vilja's Solstheim fluting or Inigo's unique rasp. Hope they can keep it down when the meeting starts.

 

Sofia is nowhere to be found, which is probably for the better. If I had to guess I'd say she's by the door, listening in.

 

Gunmar is causing a ruckus. Took some convincing from Ulfric to keep that rabid bear from ripping Elenwen apart right there and then.

 

Here we go.

 

Ulfric just objected to Elenwen's presence and Arngeir asked me about it.

 

She was very petulant going out the door for someone who's probably five times older than me. Got some respectful looks from the Nords at the table and a half relieved, half frustrated glare from Tullius.

 

I wonder if they think I'm writing notes down in here? Well, I am, actually. Huh.

 

Rikke and Galmar keep sniping at each other.

 

Speaking of which, Rikke is also being snide under her breath while Ulfric is talking. Hot blood.

 

She's seated to my left. Vilja's on my right. 

 

Vilja’s not as obviously imperial as Arissa or beastfolk like Inigo (she's seated next to Gunmar), and she's a Nord but also an outsider to Skyrim. She's also not as intimidating as Hoth or as rowdy as Sofia. A perfect blend of unassuming and neutral.

 

Tullius is right across from Ulfric. I wonder if he's worried about Ulfric's Voice?

 

Hoth took a seat in Elenwen's empty spot. Nice.

 

Ulfric wants Markarth. Elisif's not happy. 

I must admit, I don't like how Tullius pushes her around.

 

Ulfric certainly has charisma.

 

Delphine and Ulfric know each other? That must be why they're seated like that.

 

Esbern is bringing the table together.

 

Ulfric will compensate for the massacre at Karthwasten. Or so I suggested. We'll see.

 

Markarth for Riften. Their Jarls replaced with Maven and that Silverblood jerk.

 

I don't like that.

 

Law-Giver is a bit of a ditz, but Igmund is a good man. And Solitude's southern flank would be threatened, but so would Windhelm's...

 

Whiterun will be left alone, and Ulfric will compensate for the massacre. Esbern has a plan for me use my Thu'um to call a dragon-- Odahviing or something like that-- to Dragonsreach, where we can capture it.

 

Ulfric, Gunmar, and Elenwen left early, and as Balgruuf, Elisif, Tullius, Rikke, Esbern, Delphine, and my party left the monastery, a dragon swooped down and attacked! By Akatosh, it really had no idea what hit it.

 

The Dragonborn and his companions, every Blade in the province, two Jarls, and an Imperial Legate with her General. Damn thing didn't stand a chance. Good bonding exercise. Tullius and I exchanged some friendly banter and Rikke said she looked forward to working with me. She's blunt as she is sharp, that one.

 

Elisif doesn't look like much, but she can take care of herself. Something tells me she's been training since Torygg died. When she can, at least.

 

**\---Morning Star, 12th, 4E 202---**

Odahviing claims he can carry me to Alduin's gate to Sovngarde. That it's the only way up. Fine. I believe him.

 

Shouted at Farengar in the traditional sense when he asked if he could experiment on him a little while he's here. No. No he cannot. Odahviing sent him scurrying.

 

He stands ready for our final push.

 

I'll need to prepare, first. Who knows how long that might take.

 

Meanwhile, we're off to Windhelm to finish up the business with the Phial. I wonder how that old elf is doing...

 

Dark Elf Vigilants? Why?

 

**\---Morning Star, 13th, 4E 202---**

Really, there's nothing like walking atop the White River with the air around you awash with the sounds of birds and insects, watching dartwings and histcarp flicker about;  all in the shadow of the valley and with distant thunder booming.

 

Arissa is much fleeter of foot than I. Sometimes a threat will be dealt with before I even arrive.

 

Windhelm is oddly quiet...

 

Silda was in her usual place by the brazier, and I could see Rolf and a few guards kipping under the eaves of Candlehearth Hall. But the weather is still right now.

 

The place feels like a crypt.

 

Though not, apparently, Nurelion's. He's alive, but very tired. Quintus gave us a list of items he thinks he could use to repair the phial: powdered mammoth tusk, unmelting snow from the Throat of the World, and the briar heart of a Forsworn warrior.

 

Not too bad. Seems like just about everyone needs mammoth tusks for something or another.

 

No one thinks much of Karthwasten.

 

We all do things we're not proud of. I hope it helps the war effort.

 

**\---Morning Star, 15th, 4E 202---**

Glass armor glitters so beautifully in the light of the early morning.

 

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate dragons?

 

We just fought a new kind. It was very sleek-- looked almost serpentine. We were in the process of hacking it apart when it let out a terrible Shout that bathed the entire plain in a cutting blizzard. It was mostly luck that one of my lightning bolts struck true while the beast was trying to escape.

 

Alright, we have the stupid special briarheart. That took way too long to fish out of that Forsworn guy's chest. I screwed up on the initial extraction and it just kinda... schlorped into his lungs. I've gutted animals before, but this was just weird. Hoth seemed to have something to say but let me go about my business. This was probably a "learning moment".

 

Off to Windhelm. Ugh. What a trek.

 

**\---Morning Star, 18th, 4E 202---**

We finally arrived with the materials. Nurelion's in pretty bad shape. Quintus was hunched over an alchemy table for quite a while... in the meantime, the party broke and drifted through the city. Inigo stayed at the shop with me (can't blame him) and everyone else went out to find lunch or window shop. I overheard Vilja talking to Hoth about how it must be to work a hot forge on a cold Windhelm day from dusk till dawn.

 

Eventually everyone had returned and Marcus was finishing up. We took the Phial to the bedridden Nurelion, showed him the Phial working... and he gasped a hoary "Marvelous..." and passed away.

 

I wish we had been quicker about finding the ingredients... maybe Nurelion would have lived. Or maybe not. I don't know.

 

Either way, Quintus let us keep the Phial. Said he doesn't want to obsess over it like Nurelion did. Fair enough. I think I'll be keeping health potion in it.

 

One more legendary artifact for the trophy room, it seems!

 

We took Quintus with us to Candlehearth to raise a glass in Nurelion's name when this disoriented nord bumped into us muttering curses about Solstheim, and strange masked men. This immediately had Vilja's attention; we talked to the guy, and after some persuasion he agreed to ferry us over to the island in order to investigate the cult.

 

Vilja was very excited on the ride over; Inigo and I were mostly seasick. Vilja had already found her sea legs on her trip from the island; Inigo and I, however, are awful landlubbers. I don't like having anything but solid ground beneath my feet. At least I wasn't alone in my misery.

 

Arissa, however, handled herself as gracefully as ever. Apparently she had sailed small craft herself during the hot months at Oakshore and was familiar with the pitching of a boat. Hoth was stoic as ever- it'd take a lot more than a rocking boat to faze him- and Sofia was clearly impatient with the journey. I don't think she's very interested in boring, secluded Solstheim. We'll see about that...

 

When we arrived, Vilja was heartbroken to find that the boats to her parent's island (smaller, off the coast) weren't sailing, what with the danger going around. I was disappointed too- as we stood on the deck of the ship, standing warm and close, I found I really did want to arm wrestle her father and sample her mother's cooking, like she said I might. Oh well. Another time, after the island is safe again.

 

Time to move.

 

The flora and fauna here are... strange. To say the least.

 

I can hear dwemer machinery beyond the walls of this basement.

 

**\---Morning Star, 19th, 4E 202---**

Okay, maybe I can meet Vilja's family! They go shopping in Raven Rock on Morndas, I think?

 

A lot more variation in the dunmer accents around here. And the tavern music is a new sound! And ash blows on the wind, not snow. Strange place. Where are the nords, I wonder?

 

Heartstone... I wonder what this is good for?

 

Glover Mallory has no neck. Nice enough guy, but he looks like a thumb. Heh.

 

Okay, I was just talking to a noble woman in the Retching Netch when she just... gets up and leaves.

 

So does everyone else in the tavern. When I ask them what's going on, they just say that "the Master calls" or "He draws near". What the hell?

 

Vilja looks very worried. Everyone else is just... unnerved.

 

I wonder if this has anything to do with that Mirrak guy? Every time I ask about him, it seems that everyone's mind just... blanks. But they know something. Something about a temple.

 

I'm going to head outside. See what's going on.

 

There's some kind of freaky green energy crystal thing out here. The guards are chiseling away around it and muttering when I probe them.

 

Something's wrong.

 

We're watching nearby. Nobody's noticed us.

 

Screw the Inn. Time to head out into the wilds and see what's going on.

 

**\---Morning Star, 20th, 4E 202---**

 

Son of a bitch! We made camp after knocking off that resurrected Imperial general only to wake up chiseling away at a similar crystal thing with some bandits!

 

Worse still, I heard someone in my mind saying something cryptic. Hate it when that happens. Everyone is sufficiently spooked.

 

Even Hoth was enthralled.

 

Talking Rieklings??

 

Ahh, trading ash for snow. Just the way I like it.

 

**\---Morning Star, 21st, 4E 202---**

 

Dead dragons here on the surface. They're skeletons, so they can't have been killed recently. You'd think snow and ash would bury them, though... maybe these cultists are digging them out? But there's no sign of that either. Strange.

 

Akatosh's teeth, there's even more of these things scattered around the base of the big scary temple that we've been trekking towards. This is making me nervous. Whoever Miraak is, they're strong enough to enslave a whole island of people and kill these dragons. Maybe. I don't know. BUt wouldn't they be fleshy if this guy was a wizard? Maybe he butchers them? Or disintigrates them?

 

He can't be what I am...

 

Met a brave soul named Frea. She seems to have an idea who Miraak is-- he was a dragon priest that turned traitor and tried to seize the island. Domination. I guess he learned from his masters.

 

Hoth is unimpressed as ever. We eat dragon priests for breakfast. What's one lich, when we slew Potema? And so on.

 

Still, even he suggests caution. I've never seen a being powerful enough to inslave an island. Maybe Potema could have done it, should she have returned.

 

This isn't good. I'm sorry we didn't follow up on this cult business sooner. Maybe all these temples and corrupted stones and so on would have been prevented.

 

Onwards.

 

Frea is one of the Skaal. Wearing a similar suit of armor as Vilja. Makes sense that Vilja would wear Solstheim armor, come to think of it, even if she complains that it makes her look fat. Hah. Makes her look durable! And that's what I like to see.

 

We're going to scrounge for supplies at the mouth of the catacombs and make camp before we delve any deeper. We should be at our best if we're going to be up against something like Miraak.

 

I can't believe this. When we all woke up working on a temple a few miles from where we were sleeping, we all totally forgot about the TENT!

 

Damn. I dunno. I don't want to take Miraak unprepared.

 

Frea isn't happy with us, but I think we're going to head back into town and get some R&R before coming back here. She's staying. I hope we don't come back and find a corpse...

 

Sofia and Hoth and Inigo want to press on, but they can see the merit in preparing. Vilja doesn't like the suspense. Still... I think I'm making the right decision. Maybe we can find our tent. I don't remember where we pitched it, naturally.

 

Glover Mallory... Mallory... I've heard that name.

 

I really enjoy the plucky music I can hear over the breeze in Raven Rock. I wonder if it's Dunmer, Skaal, or a combination? I might be imagining it, even.

 

We're rested. I'm going to check the shops around here for bedding before we head back.

 

Once again I appreciate how the scale so reduced here on the island. Everything is a jaunt away, not a marathon.

 

Lot of rare ingredients at the alchemy shop here. Bristleback eyes are all well and good, but Werewolf hearts? Should I even ask?

 

I frequently forget how intimidating I must look in this ebony armor. Especially since I don't take my helmet off when the weather is bad.

 

Might have to stitch our own tent, really. At least I can make it out of fur, instead of feeling obligated to use our old leather one. It'll be nice to feel warmer at night-- to hell with the weatherproofing.

 

Gonna need more furs. Those won't be hard to find out here.

 

Off we go.

 

Frea is happy to see us, and impatient. She looks rather ragged. Bet she wishes she took the night, like us.

 

Alright. We're good to go. Let's tackle this place. Who knows-- maybe it'll be a lot easier than expected.

 

These cultists aren't very well equipped. But some of them are powerful casters. Kind of like Forsworn.

 

This Miraak guy seems nastier the further into his clubhouse we dig.

 

Shor's bones! I just found what seems to be a shield made of dragonscale. Lightweight and sturdy.

 

Not as good as my ebony shield here, though. And I'd prefer to have an armor set than a mishmash.

 

I don't consider myself much of a conjurer, but nothing disrupts enemy ranks like a daedra being pulled into existence right behind them.

 

These ash yams are pretty good, actually. Unexpectedly sweet.

 

Vilja and Frea are becoming friends. Not surprising. Wait, I wonder if they already know each other? It's easy to forget we're in Solstheim this deep in a crypt.

 

More Dragonscale. Gauntlets, this time. Hopefully I'll find a full set before we leave the island.

 

Gotta keep an eye on the tomb walls. That reflex has been burned deep into me by months of raiding tombs where draugr lurk.

 

I hate those swinging blade traps. They're easy enough to sprint through and with this armor the blades bruise, rather than slice. But they're still a psychological hazard unless you're mindlessly brave about it. Don't hesitate. Just go through and nurse your gashes at the other end.

 

I've been using Dawnbreaker for weeks. I wonder if I'll ever find a more worthy sword?

 

Ugh, a tomb busted open next to me and a dead Reaper Overlord fell out. That nearly gave me a heart attack. Still... at this range, I think I could have had him on the ground and full of Merida's wrath before he could retaliate. Or at least, that's what I'd like to think.

 

Hah. Fair fights are for chumps. Just go for their footing and the rest is easy. That's why I'm a successful adventurer, not a skeleton decorating some asshole's lair.

 

We're all feeling something amiss down here. At least, more than you would expect. Arissa and Frea both commented on the feeling at once- it's this kind of cold, oily itch that creeps behind your ears, and your gut feels like it's falling from High Hrothgar.

 

Finding a lot of exotic swords down here.

 

Dead end?

 

Ahh, nope. Door in the coffin. Let's see what lies beyond.

 

Vilja likes fighting draugr because they don't bleed everywhere when you hack them with an axe.

 

Hanging Moss is plentiful everywhere. You can get some good combat fortifiers out of it, or poison mages. I wonder what you can do with it and another common dungeon ingredient, like bone meal..?

 

Nothing, apparently. Found an alchemy table and did a little experimenting. Brewed up some Damage Magicka though, for any more cultists we come across.

 

Inigo is on edge here. He already doesn't like draugr much and this Miraak business is really spooking the poor guy.

 

Frea is quite perceptive.

 

Heh. To her, she's treading unhallowed ground to uncover the lost past of an sorcerous overlord and free her people from his grasp; to us, it's Turdas. Case in point: Freya was in point, commenting grimly on the statuary, while I chomped on some bread and Sofia wet her throat with some mead. I'm glad Vilja and our host didn't notice, though- it's their home at stake. Don't want to appear disrespectful.

 

Still, I just think it's funny what old salts we're becoming. After just a few months of adventuring together, we've already seen it all-- or so we'd like to think. And come to think of it, we're in Solstheim… Skyrim, and normalcy, is across the Sea of Ghosts.

 

Gods above... I'm not sure what I just saw or how it got there, but there was some kind of thing in this room that I've never seen before-- something that floated like a lich with a cloak as ragged, and a face that looked like an octopus. It was horrible, and in the heat of combat I didn't quite see where it came from or where it went when I sunk my sword into it's horrible, squirming, not-quite-there flesh.

 

Maybe a servant of the Woodland Man? It was certainly alien enough. But what's Mora got to do with  this? He doesn't lend his aid to just anyone...

 

Maybe it's a coincidence.

 

Pfft. Skeletons.

 

Found an unknowable altar, deep in the depths. A Black Book rests upon a chthonic pedestal of warped stone, itself rising out of a mat of eternally hissing coals. There's something bass and eldritch rumbling in the stone here.

 

No doubt some of the weirdness on the island can be traced back here. And no doubt this book will make a fine addition to my collection, right beside the Oghma Infinium.

 

Hehehe. Pragmatism before greed, of course. Hopefully it's not TOO evil.

 

**\---Morning Star, 22nd, 4E 202---**

I'm going to be as descriptive as possible before I forget any details:

 

Reading the book took me to some plane with a stormy green sky. There were those squid lich things there, lots of them. Got a better look and wish I hadn't. The mind bends just looking at them. Well, I've killed one already, so at least I know they can die.

 

Before me stood Miraak; he's a tall, wears an elaborate mask. Voice is deep and dangerous and commanding- kind of like Ulfric, but the accent is much more… ancient. Behind him there was a tower of some sort, and a serpentine dragon like the one we killed earlier. So I know those can die, too.

 

Right away he noticed that I was Dragonborn (as many do, it seems) and Shouted, wreathing himself in some kind of draconic aura. I think this is what the shout on the word wall outside here does. It's no surprise that he's a tongue, given that he used to be a dragon priest.

 

After that, he said something along the lines of "Solstheim is already under my command, once my temple is complete, I'm going to invade Tamriel, etc. Standard fare for a nefarious sorcerer. Honestly, I prefer nefarious warlords. Give me political drama over this rule-the-plane crap anytime.

 

Anyway, I woke up (apparently I had phased out, like draugr in a tight spot are wont to do) with Sofia hauling me to my feet and Frea insisting that we take the book to her father in Skaal Village. Alright. If she thinks he can help, I have no reason not to follow along.

 

This Miraak guy is dangerous. Much bigger fish than what we usually fry.

 

Also... I'm starting to think that the plane he was on was Apocrypha. Hermaeus Mora's domain. No doubt the Woodland Man is looking up at me and chuckling right now. That would explain the Black Book. 

 

Also, interesting concept: Apocrypha is supposed to have one of every book ever written. That includes this journal! Strange to think about it. Metaphysics always ties my brain into knots when I think too hard about it. I mean, elves spend their whole lives trying to figure it out and get nowhere solid that whole time. So I'm not going to worry about my own ignorance. Curiosity is for the kind of people that become like Miraak or Mannimarco.

 

Once again I've got to laugh at the bolt-holes the ancient nords were so fond of. Why don't we just look for those and bash them open instead of crawling the entire tomb?

 

Inigo is very relieved to be out of that place, but the blizzard that's rolled in while we were below ground is particularly cutting. And I'm a nord! Arissa must be freezing.

 

Gods, Storn just confirmed what I had suspected. Miraak is also Dragonborn.

 

Shit.

 

What does this mean? How does this affect Alduin? Or the Blades? I'm not sure. Let's make sure he doesn't return. Time is of the essence. I wish we had looked into this sooner. Damn it. Off we go.

 

Vilja is as supportive as ever. Bless her. What with Miraak & I's connection now, my destiny as Dragonborn is hogging more and more glory. I hope I'm not stamping out Vilja's personality or dreams in all this questing... She deserves better than being second fiddle all the time to a "legendary hero".

 

Now I'm thinking of all the times she wanted to do something, but it was never "the right time". Feh. Next time she wants to take the lead, I'll follow-- or better yet, I'll ask her what she wants to do.

 

Hopefully my other companions aren't getting restless either. I think that Sofia and Arissa are independent enough already-- they tend to vanish when we approach cities or other safe areas. Hoth is under my employ but also isn't concerned with formality-- he'll follow my directions in the wilderness and usually waits for my say-so to carouse, but he's generally his own person when we're not in a hurry. Inigo is just happy to be by my side, which I appreciate, but I wonder if he's ever upset with my decisions, like diving into tombs... But he always gives me honest feedback when I ask for it, and he doesn't seem to have any glaring issues with my leadership style.

 

Bah. I think I'm just worrying myself. Questioning my party's loyalty- my friends' loyalty- is counterproductive. Let's beat up Miraak.

 

Forward through the snow.

 

Dead riekling. The best kind!

 

Vilja just strode alongside me and wrapped her armored fingers through mine. I felt like I could feel the heat of her body through the steel and ebony and cutting wind.

 

I guess I should worry less about our relationship, then! Mara, if I wasn't wearing this helmet I'd lean over and kiss her. At the risk of grossing out the rest of the party. Heheh.

 

We're tired, cold, and running out of provisions.

 

But we're almost to that word wall. I have a feeling something nasty will get in between us and it, though, and I'm (once again) feeling like the odds are tipped against us like this. But time is of the essence, and we've got to press on.

 

Just caught a four-eyed hare. What the hell?

 

I never loved oysters, but food is food. And Vilja says that Solstheim is the best place for oysters in all of Nirn. I guess I'll have to try some, then!

 

Hah, rieklings. It's nice to fight something easy for a change.

 

…Why do they have so many statues of Dibella?

 

I don't even want to know.

 

Okay. I just found a pile of about fifty copies of "The Lusty Argonian Maid" lumped in a hut with a few bolts of disgusting looking fabric. Sofia is beside herself with laughter.

 

Eughh. Moving on.

 

Wait, wait. There was a spell tome buried under all… that. I'm very VERY reluctant to take it. But I will. Just. Gonna use gloves.

 

Just found a LOT of cheese. Uncle Sheo approves.

 

Hmm... Cyclone shout? I could get used to this. It should help stir up the battlefield.

 

What the hell? Another Black Book?

 

Huh. Let's investigate. This one seems... Not inert, but at least less active.

 

Reporting live from Apocrypha. Mora welcomed me at the door. Apparently my fate is twined with this place. Yeah, and every other plane. I've heard it all before. I'm curious if this writing will manifest itself in my material journal. Let's hope so.

 

More of those fish head looking statues like the kind in Miraak's temple.

 

What does Mora stand to gain from hosting Miraak? I know his wiles. Mora is a master of the gambit- I'm positive Miraak is being manipulated. I'm positive I'm being manipulated, too. Mora knows that I'm going to delve every dungeon and pick up every Black Book because that's my nature and my destiny. And I'm walking knowingly into his slimy black tendrils. Ugh.

 

Let's keep going. Maybe I can find my Apocryphal copy of this journal and see what happens when I write in it. That should be cool.

 

Also, I hope this isn't real time. Or I do hope it is, depending. I know time flows differently here. I don't want to spend too much time here and find out that weeks or months had passed. Ugh. That'd be awful. But I think that Mora needs me in the present... or so I'd like to believe. We'll see.

 

Wonder if I can find a bed in here. Hah. Not like I'd sleep well. Also, time wasting. And companion-worrying. I should get moving.

 

I'm not going to take anything from here. Just in case.

 

Unless it's really, really dope.

 

These book towers are waving like kelp. It's hard to look at without getting a headache.

 

Shit! Squid Guys! Different sort. Taller. Throwing blobs. I wonder if I can summon daedra here..?

 

Yes, I can.

 

These giant fish guys SUCK! What the hell, Mora? What's your game?!

 

Just killed another one of the tentacle mage things. This one had a bunch of tantalizing books and scrolls... I think I'll help myself. My soul already belongs to everyone anyway.

 

These books are mostly in terrible condition. Urag gro-Shub would beat the snot out of Mora if he found out.

 

The magika here feels funny. It changes "flavors" depending on where you are, generally: each province has its own twist, and that is further refined depending on the hold or the landscape or whatever. Faint, but it's noticeable, since magika is so fundamentally tied to the land.

 

In Apocrypha, it's bizarre. Feels slippery and brutish and drawn in the direction of the books. I can control it fine... but something about it is very, very off. I'm hesitant to heal myself with it, even.

 

Hmm. So. I just learned how to summon a devil from beyond the mortal realm to do business with, and I bought a really sweet enchanted warhammer with five mortal souls captured in the lattices of black soul gems.

 

I really hope no one reads this. Why am I even recording this dirty deed?

 

Whatever. It's like I said before- every Aedra and every Daedra has their fingers in my pie. What I do with my life now doesn't matter since my eternal (dragon) soul is going to get pushed and pulled every which-way once my material body falls apart.

 

I don't like keeping secrets from the party, so I summoned up the daedric merchant in the Black Book's antechamber and did some business. After he disappeared, the only reaction I got was from Vilja, who asked "Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

 

We've seen some really weird shit. This stuff is par for the course now. "Martyn is dealing with a daedra? Must be Turdas!" Pfft.

 

Anyway, Gods only know what else will happen. I'll probably meet up with Clavicus Vile and Sanguine and Hircine and Peryite and all those guys too at some point. Pfft. Like I said- who DOESN'T my soul belong to?

 

Though really, let's be honest- my heart & soul belong to Vilja. Beautiful spirit, her.


End file.
